


First

by rabidchild67



Series: Next Best Destiny [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Sex, First Time, M/M, Science Officer Kirk AU, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-02-06 01:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1838992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Jim’s first mission as Enterprise’s first officer and, well, he and Captain Spock have an important “first” of their own to get to.</p><p>Sequel to Next Best Destiny</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that I am posting only half of this, but if I do it will force me to finish it.

Before we get started, here is some lovely art created for this 'verse. Thank you both - I'm blown away by your talents.

This one is by Tumblr artist @princessjameskirk:  


And this one from @huemen:

\----

Jim sat slumped over sideways at the desk in a position that was sure to have caused his mother to yell at him about posture and scoliosis had she been there. Fortunately she wasn’t, because he didn’t think getting yelled at by his mom while in close proximity to the bridge crew would be conducive to his gaining respect as their new first officer.

He was in the Captain’s Ready Room working on staffing assignments, seated in his customary seat in front of the desk facing where Spock would have sat had he been present. He could have been doing the work in his own quarters – they were private enough – but he found this room more conducive to working. Plus, he still wasn’t used to his new quarters – they were far too quiet.

He sat up straight and stretched his back, reveling in the sensation of his spine realigning, the joints cracking and the muscles flexing. He glanced over at the replicator and contemplated dialing up an orange juice.

Jim blinked in surprise when the door opened suddenly and Spock was standing there. “Oh, hey,” he greeted with a smile that gradually faded as Spock remained standing where he was for long moments, backlit by the lights in the corridor, his face cast in shadow. “Spock?” Jim said.

Spock swept into the room with smooth strides and the door slid silently closed behind him. 

“I thought you’d be stuck at that reception for another couple hours?” Jim said.

Spock came to a stop beside the desk, forcing Jim to turn in the chair to look up at him. Even though he was now illuminated by the lighting in the office, Spock’s face was still blank, expressionless, leaving Jim with no clue of what he might be thinking.

“Spock?”

Spock reached down and fisted Jim’s shirt in one hand, pulling him upright effortlessly. Jim felt more than heard the seams at his shoulders tear as he suddenly found himself on his feet. There was a clashing of teeth as Spock claimed Jim’s mouth, and he tasted blood, but he wasn’t sure whose it was. When they parted, he was panting, his heart beating so fast he could barely think. He looked up at Spock through glasses set askew by their kiss.

“Wow.”

“I apologize for my urgency, but I overheard the colony’s governor commenting on your physical attributes, and I had to remove myself from the reception.”

Jim blinked in confusion – he’d exchanged pleasantries with the colonial governor of Dextan VI earlier; the conversation had lasted mere moments before Uhura had ushered Jim over to meet the Ferengi ambassador.

“He declared his desire to ‘hit that’ and ‘breed you’.”

“Um. I. Well…” 

“I did not like it.”

“You know he didn’t mean to imply he would _actually hit me_ , right?”

“So I inferred from the remaining context of the conversation as well as his facial expressions and hand gestures.”

“I see…”

“And though I am, as always, confident of your lack of interest in a relationship with anyone else, I was still overwhelmed with an uncontrollable impulse to beat him bloody. With my hands.”

 

“Ah.”

“It did not lessen my desire to pummel him about the face, so I removed myself to the ship as a precautionary measure. Thus, here I am.”

“Good.” 

“For _I_ would breed you, Jim.”

“Ah ha, yes. Well. Better.”

With a growl – there was no other word for it – Spock pulled Jim in for another passionate kiss, his lips punishing, his tongue insistent. Jim moaned Spock’s name into the space between kisses and brought his own hands up to clutch at Spock’s biceps. 

A moment later, Spock pulled away to remove Jim’s glasses in one swift motion. He flung them away, smoothly maneuvered Jim closer to the desk, then lifted him up and onto it as if Jim weighed nothing. Spock got closer, his breathing harsh and hot against Jim’s neck as he ripped the remainder of his uniform shirt open to suck a mark there.

“You’re gonna just… _take me_? R-right here on the desk?” Jim panted. 

“Yes.”

“But all the PADDs and stuff?“

Spock parted from him long enough to sweep all of it to the floor with one move of his powerful arm.

Jim felt his spine go weak, and he repeated, “Wow.”

“Indeed,” Spock agreed before standing back and pulling Jim’s pants open with a loud, ripping sound.

Jim’s penis bounced, suddenly free – what had possessed him not to wear underwear today? – and he gasped in surprise at the easy destruction. “Hummina, hummina,” he began, but he was interrupted by yet another passionate kiss. Before he knew it, he was on his back on the desk, and he could feel the heat of Spock’s turgid member against his body. When had he gotten naked?

“Wait,” he gasped, not believing he was interrupting the course of events, but self-preservation was self-preservation, “we don’t have anything here – l-lube or…”

“There is no need,” Spock replied, his voice tight and passionate. “Vulcan penises are self-lubricating.”

Jim swallowed. “Self-lubricating?”

“Self-lubricating.”

_“Self-lubricating, Commander?”_

Jim startled and looked up from the PADD he held in his hands, dropping it into his lap, where it bounced and fell to the floor with a clatter. His face turned brick red immediately – he’d been caught day-dreaming about being with Spock instead of doing the work he’d set out to do this evening. “Wh-what was that, Mister Echols?” he asked, trying to cover.

“It sounded… I’m sorry, sir, but did you just say ‘self-lubricating’? What is self-lubricating?”

“Oh, these, uh, these servos Scotty wants to order for the, uh, the external inertial dampeners, and, uh, they’re kind of expensive? They’d really, uh, blow our budget.” _Did he just say ‘blow’?_ Jim could feel a fresh wave of heat hit his already flaming cheeks.

Yeoman Echols gave him a strange look before handing him the PADD he’d dropped. Jim accepted it and fired it up again, intent on getting back to reviewing and approving the supply requisitions he had been working on before his imagination got the better of him. 

Jim sighed with frustration – sure, he and Spock had admitted they had feelings for each other, and it had been really great that first night. Agreeing they ought to take it slow, they’d merely kissed and did a little above-the-belt groping, but before they had a chance to get further, they’d received urgent new orders from the Admiralty and had had to take care of matters in order to get the ship ready to disembark. 

The “urgent” mission they were sent on, however, turned out to be far from the five-year exploratory mission they’d been rumored to be up for. It seemed that some minister of something or other had insisted – and the Admiralty agreed – that a full-scale publicity tour by the crew of the Enterprise – the so-called “Champions of the Galaxy” – had to occur immediately to maximize the good publicity the crew’s actions during the Nero incident had generated. The six-week “goodwill tour” was now in its eighth week. Days upon days of being paraded in front of planetary dignitaries, Starfleet supporters, and potential research funders were beginning to take their toll – even Spock, who had practically been weaned on these things was beginning to look put-out by the seemingly endless list of “official appearances.” 

“Sir?”

Jim nearly jumped when he realized Echols was still standing there. “Yes, Yeoman?”

“Mr. Byrne wanted to speak with you about tomorrow’s schedule, sir.”

Jim hoped he was successful at hiding his impatience with this bit of news. Byrne was a representative from Starfleet PR who’d been assigned to the ship to “coordinate interplanetary communications efforts,” but Bones said he was hell-sent for the specific purpose of annoying everyone. He chastised himself for the unkind thought and rose. “Where is he?”

“In the Captain’s Ready Room, sir.”

Jim straightened out his blue tunic and made the short walk to the office. When he entered, it was to find Mr. Byrne sitting behind the desk, twirling a stylus in his hand as he spoke into his personal communicator to someone via vidlink.

Jim pressed his lips together and tried not to look like he was annoyed, but no one should be sitting in that chair but the Captain. “Mr. Byrne,” he began.

“Bip-bip-bip,” Byrne said, holding a finger up at Jim and smiling with a flash of his too-white teeth. Jim furrowed his brows in consternation at the man, whose mannerisms changed depending on the rank of the person in front of him. With Jim he was dismissive and condescending; with Spock, obsequious and vaguely flirty. Jim had never hated anyone on sight before – even revenge-bent Romulans – but he came damn close with this man.

“No, Briony, we will not bring the _Champions of the Galaxy TM_ to Andoria until they can commit to no less than the _Prime Minister himself_ to attend the ceremony.” He glanced over at Jim at this pronouncement and waggled his eyebrows as if asking Jim to be impressed by this. 

Jim did not hear the reply. “I don’t care if they’re negotiating peace with the _Klingons_ , we will not stand for such a snub.” He punctuated each word with a tap of the stylus on the desk. “What? They _are_ negotiating with the Klingons?” He bit his lip. “Well, I still don’t care – do they know how famous these boys are now? They’re the Studs of Starfleet.” 

Briony – whoever that was – said something else Jim didn't catch. Byrne rolled his eyes. “Fine, but they owe me one now – you _tell_ Shular that.” Byrne consulted a PADD set on the desk before him. “What about a week later – the week of the 10th? We can schedule an extra day on Risa – that ought to be good for an extra news cycle or two.”

Jim took a step back towards the door – if the man wasn’t prepared to speak, he wasn’t going to stand around and be forced to eavesdrop. He had a ship to run.

“Commander!” Byrne called, and held his finger up in the universal gesture that meant _just one second_. Jim sighed.

“Listen, Briony, I’ve got to go – here’s one of our little Champions now. OK. OK. Buh-bye-love-ya-mwah!” 

Byrne disconnected the call, looked up at Jim and smiled. “Sorry about that, Commander,” he said in the vaguely condescending manner he tended to take when he was with Jim alone, “Byrne gets so _busy_.” 

“Does he?” Jim wasn’t sure if the man’s tendency to speak of himself in the third person was a cultural thing or a personal tic. He did mention he was from Detroit, so…

“It is all _of the good_ though!” He pulled himself to his feet and clapped his hands. “Commander _Kirk_! It’s all for the good of the Federation!” 

“Is it?”

“I know, right? Now,” Byrne’s face went all serious and he began to stroke his chin with the well-manicured fingers of his right hand, “what’s this I hear about you not attending the reception this evening?”

“I’m on duty, I told you –“

“Duty, psh, what’s that really _mean_?”

“I always thought it was for the good of the Federation…”

Byrne’s eyes hardened into hatred for a moment so brief Jim thought he might be seeing things, but then he was all smiles again. “I suppose Spock will have to carry the day.”

Jim bristled at Byrne not using Spock’s title. “And Lieutenants Hendorff, Sulu, and Uhura, Captain Williams, and all the other crew of this ship who acted that day – this focus on just Captain Spock and me is not telling the whole story.”

Byrne shook his head and looked at Jim as if he was simple. “But it’s the story they want to hear.”

Jim sighed. “I thought you needed to speak to me?”

Byrne actually clapped his hands together. “Yes! I have the prototypes for the action figures to show you. We just need your OK to proceed with production.”

“Action figures?”

“Of course – gotta act now if we want them in all the stores for the holidays.”

“Look, I dunno about making a doll that looks like me…”

“ _Action figure_ , Commander. Action figure. Anyway, don’t knock it until you’ve seen it. Here.” Byrne fiddled around with the PADD he still held and adjusted something on it, then thrust the thing into Jim’s hands. “What do you think?”

Jim looked down at the image that was displayed, his eyes widening. Are we wearing _armor_?”

“Of course – you’re the Champions of the Galaxy. TM.”

“But we weren’t wearing body armor.”

“Psh! Artistic license. We’ll fix it.” Byrne did not sound sincere as he took the PADD back. 

“And what’s this about going to Andoria the week of the tenth? That’s in two weeks. This tour of yours was supposed to be over thirteen days ago, Mr. Byrne. Have you cleared this with Captain Spock?”

“I’ve cleared it with Admiral Marcus himself.”

Jim felt out of his element until something occurred to him. “I’ll tell you what – you get Captain Spock to agree, and I’ll sign whatever rights to my image you need.”

Byrne looked smug and Jim turned to leave, a small smile on his lips. There was no way Spock would agree – it was against his Vulcan sensibilities, and Jim knew it. Before the door could shut behind him, he turned around. “And Mr. Byrne – the next time I see you in this office, I expect it is because you’ll have been invited here by the Captain. You may be charged with making our schedules, but you are not part of the chain of command. Is that clear?” 

There went that flash of something like hatred in his eyes again. “As crystal, Commander.”

\----

The rest of Beta shift passed without incident and, once Jim had given a status report to his relief, he headed to the Officer’s mess for a late dinner.

“Hey, Jimmy!” 

Jim looked up with a smile as Gaila joined him; he slid his chair over to make room next to himself at the large, round table. 

“I thought you’d be dirtside at that big reception or whatever?” she asked, helping herself to his French fries.

“I thought I’d be stuck down there too, but I lucked into a duty shift during Beta.”

“’Lucked into’? Don’t you set the rosters for bridge crew?” 

“The Captain would have changed it if he needed me down there.”

“Getting tired of all the partying?”

“If it were _just that_ , it’d be fine. It’s everything else that comes with this dang tour – the long and boring speeches, the glad-handing. I haven’t been able to get any work done in days!”

“You’re beginning to sound like your pal McCoy.”

“You see how bad it’s gotten?” he asked ruefully.

“My poor baby,” she cooed, patting him on the hand. “At least you get to come home at night and be with your sexy Vulcan lovahhh!”

Jim could practically _hear_ himself blushing. “Keep it down, will you? That’s your command team you’re talking about.” He glanced around the half-empty cafeteria. “And I don’t think I’d qualify him as my lover, anyways,” he added in a low tone.

“What? Jimmy, don’t tell me you haven’t closed that deal yet?”

“You make it sound like a business transaction.”

“Where I’m from, it is. And don’t try to deflect me – you two are clearly meant for each other, so what’s the holdup?”

Jim sighed. “It’s this whole magical mystery tour of the galaxy – we’re pulled in so many directions that we barely get any time to be alone. And when we do…” He let his voice trail off, frustrated.

“What?”

Jim reflected on the last time he and Spock had stolen a moment alone – they had been in an anteroom on Delta IV, after a long day spent in receptions with planetary dignitaries. Spock had been sending what Jim had read as smoldering looks his way all day. At last they were alone and Jim had gone to Spock, had slipped his arms around his neck and gotten so close he could taste his breath, and just as Spock was turning his head to the side to kiss him, they had been interrupted by that PR wonk Byrne. Spock had jumped away from Jim like a scalded cat, which, while necessary, had hurt a bit.

“ _Stuff_ gets in the way.”

Gaila nodded and cooed understandingly, patting patted him on the hand. “Oh, baby, I know it’s hard to be a virgin at your age, but I mean, it’s not all _that unusual_ for humans, is it?”

“I’m not a virgin!” Jim protested way too loudly, if the dozen or so turned heads around them was any indication. He groaned and buried his face in his arms on the table.

“Of course you’re not.”

“I’m not,” he said into the table’s surface, unwilling to look up. He was not. True, he’d only had sex with one person before, but it was a relationship that had lasted nearly six whole months. He sighed.

“And I don’t think I blame you for being, you know, _intimidated_.”

He lifted his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you know… what they say about Vulcans. You know.”

“I do not know.”

She cast her eyes to the ceiling and, if Jim wasn’t mistaken, there were two points of high color in her cheeks as well. “They are… particularly… strong…”

“Everyone knows that.”

“…and like, _kinda possessive_...”

“Uhh…” Jim would not deny being turned on by that very idea, having fantasized about it earlier.

“…and superwellhung.”

Jim’s eyes nearly boggled. “Like, to the point of being scary orrr…?”

She said nothing, merely raised her eyebrows.

“Horse hockey.”

She held a hand up, as if testifying. “All I know is what I know.”

“ _Do_ you know?”

“Look, just check out some Vulcan porn – you’ll see what I mean.”

“Vulcan porn? There’s no such thing.”

“Of course there is.” She reached into the pocket of her uniform, pulled out a data solid, and held it out to him. 

Jim looked at it as if it would bite him. “You carry Vulcan porn around on your person?”

“Well, you know, my best friend’s with a Vulcan, I just wanted to, like, _empathize_. Or something.”

“Aww, I’m your best friend?” 

“You want it or not?”

“I don’t think so. It feels kinda weird and privacy invading-y.”

Still, she pressed the data solid into his hand. “Keep it anyway, just in case.”

“I still don’t know.”

“Suit yourself. But don’t come crying to me, et cetera. On second thought, _do_ come crying to me, because I’m in the middle of a huge drought, you know what I mean?”

“Gaila, the entire quadrant knows what you mean.”

\----

Later that night, Jim woke to the sounds of Spock getting ready for bed in their shared bathroom. He opened his eyes and looked over to the open doorway – they’d taken to leaving their doors open if they were looking for company when they could get it – and caught a glimpse of an elbow here, a hip there. Jim glanced at the chrono on his nightstand – it was 03:19. A moment later, Spock’s head came into view as he peered around the edge of the door. 

He was backlit, so Jim couldn’t see his face; similarly, the angle of the light from the bathroom was such that Jim’s face was completely in shadow. Spock stood there for a long moment, holding a hand towel, his head cocked intently to the side. If asked, Jim could not have said why he didn’t say anything, he just watched Spock watching him. A moment later, Spock turned to return to his own room, and Jim caught just a trace of a smile on his face as he turned.

\----

The next day, the Enterprise was already en route to Trillius Prime, where the “Champions of the Galaxy TM” were to put in an appearance to kick off a trade conference, then pick up the Vulcan contingent and transport them to their home world. Jim woke late and so had to skip breakfast; over the last weeks, he and Spock had at least been able to spend a half hour together over their morning meal, where they could keep up with each other as well as ship’s business.

Today would not be one of those days. 

Jim made his way to the conference room on Deck 12, where he, Scotty, Bones, and a few other department heads were to meet with Uhura for a crash course in interplanetary protocol.

“I don’t understand why I have to do this,” Jim moaned as he took his seat.

Nyota tossed her ponytail and gave him the hairy eyeball. “Because some of you who were not command track at the Academy need some remedial training in how not to kick off an interplanetary incident.” Her eyes flashed at Scotty, who affected an innocent expression.

“I had no intention of insulting the Dalusian Prime Minister’s daughters – how was I to know they weren’t coconuts?”

McCoy looked at him, appalled. 

“In their pupal state – they look like coconuts,” Scotty explained.

McCoy’s eyebrow shot up in alarm.

“Calm down, man – all I did was try to juggle them.”

As the First Officer, Jim ought to have known better, but he still snorted into his orange juice.

The training lasted much longer than Jim had thought possible, and at the end of it, he was impatient to get to the bridge. He hoped he’d be able to catch up to Spock who, despite the demanding schedule they’d had lately, Spock made it a point to report for as much of Alpha shift as he could. Bones thought he was a control freak, but Jim knew his reasons were much more than that. Spock was dedicated to command unit integrity, and knew the importance of consistency in the leadership on board. While the crew respected and were unfailingly loyal to him, he still needed to be seen each day.

Jim was nearly to the bridge – he could see the light bleeding through the sliding doors – when a voice behind him stopped him in his tracks.

“Commander! There you are!”

Jim froze, winced, then turned around in as fluid a motion as he could manage; that was to say: not at all. “Yes, Mr. Byrne?”

“I have been looking for you all morning. We arrive at Trillius Prime in less than an hour – have you memorized your speech for the reception?”

“Memorized? Speech?”

Byrne adopted the put-upon expression he seemed to favor when dealing with Jim. “I knew this would happen. I messaged you about it _days_ ago. Never fear, never fear, I have it on this PADD.” 

He shoved a mini-PADD at Jim, who fumbled with it a few times before gaining control of it. “I don’t… I mean... I’ve never…” Jim would remember if he’d received such a message.

Byrne waved his hands “You’ve got almost two hours until you’re on – nothing to worry about. Piece of cake for someone like you, boobeleh. N'est-ce pas?” Byrne administered air kisses from fully three feet away and then stalked away, the only clue he’d been there the lingering aroma of costly hair care products.

\----

Jim stood in an anteroom off of the main hall where today’s appearance was to be held. They were in New City, the capital city of the major continent of Trillius Prime. It was distinguished from the other major metropolis on the continent, Old City, in that it was newer. Trillians were exceptionally literal.

He tugged at the collar of his dress greys, but it did little to relieve the feeling that he was suffocating. Why did it have to be so tight? He rubbed his palms on his pants – they just wouldn’t stop sweating – and glanced nervously about him, muttering under his breath. Funny how he could memorize all the elements in the periodic table, their atomic weights and electron configurations, but he couldn’t seem to keep 300 simple words in his head. Public speaking had never been his strong suit. He wasn’t like Spock, who could expound at length on any given topic, delivering points of view that were both well-considered and eloquent. No doubt it was due to his upbringing, but Jim marveled at the talent, wondering if he’d ever be able to master it. He supposed he ought to, now that he was the first officer of Starfleet’s flagship – but did it have to be today? At a conference dedicated to the free trade of sweeteners of all things. 

The room was small but richly appointed, with a broad array of foods laid out on a table along one wall. In keeping with the theme of the conference, all the food featured sweeteners in an integral way – Jim was literally a kid in a candy store. But he was so nervous about his speech, he found none of it appealing. He wished he could at least look out a window or something, but New City was constructed entirely underground.

The sound of a cleared throat behind him got his attention and he turned. “Captain!” he said, striding over like an eager puppy. “Boy, it’s nice to see a friendly face.”

Spock’s lips pressed into a line and his face relaxed – his version of a smile – and he opened up his stance, his hands folded in front of him. 

“Or any face, really,” Jim added.

“I was told you were preparing for your speech?” 

“Ugh, speech,” Jim said, deflating.

“You are not prepared?”

“I’m as prepared as an hour’s notice could possibly make me. I think I’ve got the first sentence memorized.”

“That will not do. Have you never delivered a speech publicly before? Did you not have to defend your doctoral dissertation, for example?”

“Sure I have, but delivering material I’m comfortable with to a room of my peers is not the same thing as talking live in front of over a thousand bored trade delegates.”

“Not to mention the fact that the event will be simultaneously broadcast on subspace.”

Jim swallowed. “S-simultaneously… b-broadcast?” 

“These things typically are. Our presence is predicted to lead to all-time high ratings. Apparently, that is important.”

“Oh. Kay.”

“Jim, you are quite pale.”

“Am I?”

“And shaking. Here, you must sit down.” Spock moved closer; sliding his hand into the crook of Jim’s arm, he led him to a nearby chair.

“Sorry, I only get like this when I’m really, really nervous.”

“You are expected to speak in 8.4 minutes.”

“That’s not really helping.”

“Perhaps this will.”

Spock moved to stand behind Jim. Placing his hands on Jim’s shoulders, he pulled him back to sit more upright in the chair. When Jim had settled, Spock placed his hands on either side of his head, close enough for Jim to sense his presence, but not close enough to touch. Jim heard him take a breath and then he settled the tip of each middle finger lightly on Jim’s temples. His touch was cool, barely there, but Jim felt an instantaneous release of some of the tension and nerves he was feeling.

“Oh,” he said aloud.

“You are calming,” Spock said several moments later. It was a statement, not a question.

“I am.” The room resolved itself with a clarity Jim had not perceived until this moment. 

“You are visualizing the text of your speech.”

As if it was a prediction, Jim had sudden and perfect recall of the speech. He would take a moment to be amazed, but the sense of serene calm he was feeling made it all seem irrelevant. “I have it all, every word.”

“Good.” Spock removed his fingers from Jim’s head though he didn’t lower his hands, eventually resting them lightly on Jim’s shoulders.

“What was that? Was that a mind meld?”

“Negative, merely a channeling of emotion. When I was very young, I had a harder time than other Vulcan youths in controlling my emotions enough to meditate successfully. As you know, meditation is an essential way that Vulcans maintain mental health. My father hired a mind adept to help me learn through a kind of guided meditation. She would drain the negative emotions away from my mind so that I could focus. I eventually learned to control them myself. Later in life, I received instruction for the skill. It has proven quite useful, especially since I joined Starfleet.”

“So you just – took away my stress? Where did it go?”

“Why… into my own mind.”

Jim twisted around to look up at him, a tiny feeling of unease unfurling in his gut. “But… isn’t that bad for a Vulcan?”

“I am well-equipped to handle it,” Spock replied, lifting his left hand to trail two fingers along the curve of Jim’s jaw.

Jim knew the significance of that gesture – knew what Vulcan kissing was, even if he and Spock had had little time to indulge in it – and he couldn’t control a small shiver. Closing his eyes, he reached up with his own right hand and slowly traced two fingers along the back of Spock’s wrist, through the wiry hairs on the back of his hand and along the fingers that caressed him, where he idly ran his fingertips over the first knuckle. He opened his eyes when he heard Spock’s breathing stutter.

“I desire you… so much, Jim,” Spock said quietly, his eyes darkening as he opened his hand to palm the side of Jim's face.

“I know. I know,” Jim whispered, grasping Spock’s wrist lightly and turning his head slightly to place a light, open-mouthed kiss over the pulse point. “Me too.”

“We will be together… soon.”

“Yes. Oh yes, please.”

“Tonight.”

Jim closed his eyes and nodded.

“What’s tonight?” a familiar and very, very unwanted voice said, causing Jim to jump and Spock to say something in Vulcan under his breath that Jim suspected might be a naughty word. “I mean, other than the charity dinner I booked for you to host, Captain.”

“Mr. Byrne. How punctual of you,” Spock observed, turning toward the newcomer and removing his hand from Jim’s face. Jim felt its absence keenly.

“Punctuality’s my middle name,” Byrne said with a lopsided grin Jim suspected he’d practiced in a mirror to ensure it was properly charming. It wasn’t. “You’re on in five, Commander Kirk. You ready?”

Jim met Spock’s eyes when he turned to look down on him; he still felt the effects of Spock’s emotional assist and had complete recall of the words. He nodded and rose. “As I’ll ever be.”

\----

Jim’s speech was a brief one, followed by many longer ones and a seemingly interminable reception where he got the chance to put some of Nyota’s instruction from earlier that day to good use. He and Spock never got the chance to speak again, but the Captain sent heated, speaking looks Jim’s way all evening. Jim wasn’t sure if he should find it all hot or frustrating, or if hot-and-frustrating was the way to go. All he knew was that he spent the entire evening feeling too warm, and thinking about finally being alone with Spock later that night.

They were about to be seated for dinner – a “small, intimate” affair for 100 – when Jim received a call from the Enterprise. 

“Scott to Commander Kirk.”

Jim found a quiet alcove and stepped inside as other guests passed slowly down the corridor toward the dining room. “Kirk here.”

“Sir, I didn’t want to bother the Captain with it but we’ve a wee bit o’ trouble in main engineering with one o’ the plasma couplers.”

“How serious is it?”

“Nothing to be alarmed by, but it’s hardly a routine repair. We’ll need to start immediately.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t like to pull ye away from the party, but it _is_ an all-hands kind of thing.”

“I’ll be there in five – alert the transporter room. Kirk out.”

“Aye, Commander. Scott out.”

Jim emerged just in time to see Bones walking by. He called him over.

“I tell you, I don’t know how much more of these AVIPs I can take, Jim-boy, I really don’t,” he muttered.

“AVIPs?”

“Apparently Very Important People. At least in their own minds,” Bones replied sardonically. “At least the booze is top-shelf. Not that I’m drinking, mind, since I’m on call. But I can appreciate the attention to the finer details.”

“Your sacrifice is noted,” Jim said.

“You’re starting to sound like the Captain,” Bones replied, but he had a smile on his face. “What’s up?”

“Problem in Engineering – I’ve got to beam back to the ship to take care of some things.”

Bones looked hopeful. “I don’t suppose it constitutes a medical emergency, does it?”

“You should be so lucky,” Jim replied dryly. “No one’s been hurt, but Scotty could use a hand. Can you let the Captain know? It’ll take me forever to get through this crowd, and I’d rather spend the time back on board.”

“Aye-aye, Commander,” Bones said and slapped him on the shoulder. “Once more unto the breach,” he added as he headed off into the crowd. 

Jim left the reception area to find a quiet spot and called for a beam-out.

\----

Jim pressed against the lean, hard body of his Captain, trying to force his own body to relax and failing utterly. He wished the effects of Spock’s emotion-channeling were still in effect, because he was concerned this would be over before it began. Spock lay back then, pulling Jim with him, a finger under Jim’s jaw tilting his head up to a perfect angle to be kissed. Jim settled atop him, Spock’s long, muscular thigh clasped between his own. Spock’s tongue was licking at the inside of Jim’s lips and teeth, then he was sucking on Jim’s tongue. Jim moaned as Spock’s hand, which had been resting on the back of his neck, moved down his back, fingertips trailing, to rest on the top curve of Jim’s buttocks. It was all the invitation Jim needed as his hips surged forward. He was fully hard now and shamelessly humping Spock’s thigh, despite the underwear he still wore. He was so close. So close…

“Scott to Commander Kirk.”

Jim opened his eyes and flailed his arm out a bit with a protest of, “What, no!” sneaking past his lips as he came unwillingly awake. A moment later, awareness returned and he realized he was lying in his own bed, the sheets tangled around and under his body as he humped one of his Starfleet issue pillows like a horny teenager. 

“Ugh!” he groaned and reached for his glasses and communicator in that order. “Yes, Mr. Scott?” he asked.

“Sir, the final testing is complete – you wanted me to let you know.”

“And the plasma couplings? How’s our ship doing?”

“Performing well within normal parameters, sir. There should be no lasting effects.”

Jim breathed a sigh of relief. The problem with the ship’s engines had not been the “wee bit o’ trouble” that Scotty had reported. Though reparable, it had taken nearly all engineering hands the entire night to address. Jim had pitched in as necessary and when he wasn’t elbow-deep in circuitry, he was organizing the efforts, as Scotty’s expertise and full attention was necessary in the more delicate areas of the repair. Once everything came back online and only needed a final round of testing, Jim had returned to his quarters for some sleep – he glanced at his chrono – about two hours ago.

“That’s great, Scotty. Your team did a bang-up job. I’ll make sure the Captain hears about it.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now get some rest – I thought I ordered you to turn in when I did.”

“Well, sir, I needed to see it through you know,” Scotty replied sheepishly.

“No worries – but get some rest now, OK?”

“Aye. Scott out.”

Jim tossed the communicator back on his nightstand and took a deep breath. He got up to use the bathroom and saw that Spock’s door was open; a quick glance inside told him the Captain was not in. 

“Computer, locate Captain Spock.”

“Captain Spock has not yet returned from the planet.”

Jim frowned to think of Spock having to spend the entire night down there when he knew he’d have been more comfortable in his own quarters. Despite only getting a couple hours’ sleep, he didn’t feel like he could fall asleep again, but it was too early to head for the officers’ mess for breakfast. Regarding the state of his bedding – and the raging semi he still had – he headed for his desk and sat down, opening the top drawer quickly before he could overthink it.

Lying on top of a box of unused data solids was the one Gaila had given him the other day, gleaming innocently up at him in the half-light of his quarters. Cupping himself through his boxers and remembering his dream, Jim reached in and took the thing up without thinking. He pushed it into the reader on his desk without even looking at it. 

The home screen on his terminal went black as the holo began to play; Jim switched on the option that made it life-sized. He often did this with movies – what was lost in clarity and resolution was made up for with sheer wow-power. In a film with lots of explosions, that was pretty impressive.

The beginning credits began and Jim sat back, waiting for the movie to begin. Then the title card came up. “ _Lick Dong and Prosper_?” Jim read, nearly incredulous. Then the action started.

The vid’s protagonist, an unnamed man who was apparently a prince – and whose blond hair and blue eyes Jim chose to ignore – had been cursed with bad luck by an evil spirit. Apparently the only thing that would lift the curse was if he could find the man of his dreams, his own Prince Charming. And the only way to test that was to have sex with as many men in a high-end brothel as he could in one evening, or else be cursed forever.

Jim relaxed back in his chair as he watched the man – a human – have exuberant and increasingly athletic sex, first with an Andorian with ornate tattoos all over his body, then a Tellarite (who Jim was convinced was another being wearing a mask, since his tusks were shaped like human penises), and then with a pair of shapeshifters who were most definitely real. 

Jim fast-forwarded through most of the vid – he’d been promised Vulcan porn, after all – until he got to the final segment.

“Hello,” a Vulcan male, who was lounging on a chaise in the foreground said in a deep and sonorous voice. His back was to Jim, though he had the usual glossy black crown of hair atop his head. 

“Hi,” the prince said, standing in the door of a plainly-decorated sleeping chamber. “I am looking for the man of my dreams.”

“Dreams are illogical.”

“I’m unlucky in love – if I can find him, my curse will be lifted.”

“Luck is illogical. Love is a useless emotion.”

“You don’t really mean that?”

The Vulcan appeared to shrug, and Jim was feeling increasingly frustrated by not being able to see him. Reaching out with his hands, he adjusted the angle of the vid so that he could see both men’s faces.

The Vulcan looked nothing like Spock, and Jim didn’t know why he expected him to. He was shorter than Spock and stockier than most Vulcans Jim had ever met. He was dressed in robes of a sheer, shimmery material that both revealed and concealed everything. Jim wished he knew what kind of fabric acted like that, because the effect was intoxicating. The Vulcan’s body was very well-muscled, his chest covered by a mat of dark hair, his hands square and fingers blunt, and his skin was… tanned. He was handsome, though not conventionally so. His affect seemed typically Vulcan, which made Jim wonder why the man would be appearing in such a film – Vulcans as a race were pretty modest, but he supposed it took all kinds.

“ _Kaiidth_ ,” the Vulcan replied. 

“What’s that mean?” the prince asked.

The Vulcan stood. “It means come here.”

Jim was fairly sure it didn’t mean that.

The prince sank to his knees in front of the Vulcan, slowly pushing his robes off to reveal a massive erection the likes of which Jim could not have imagined before in his life. It rose from a thatch of thick, dark hair, already dripping pearlescent fluid. The prince licked at it and smiled, then began to mouth at it, moaning with such pleasure that Jim wondered if he might eventually pass out. As he looked up at the Vulcan, Jim thought he saw a gleam in the human’s eye as he took the entirety of his length into his mouth with one easy motion. 

Jim touched his own throat self-consciously – he wasn’t sure he could pull that one off without gagging.

Suddenly, the Vulcan surged forward, grabbing the prince under his arms and lifting him up. The Vulcan held him close, as if he were holding a baby in his arms, the prince’s ankles locked behind his back. Then the Vulcan reached down to guide his erect penis into the prince’s body.

“Oh my fur and whiskers,” Jim breathed, covering his mouth with both hands as he watched. After a brief pause during which the prince moaned appreciatively, the Vulcan began to piston his hips into his partner at a furious pace. The prince grabbed frantically at the man’s shoulders for purchase. In a moment, the Vulcan had backed them both over to a nearby wall, and the rested a hand there from time to time for support. The Vulcan's muscles bulged; he showed no sign of tiring. The human moaned enthusiastically, almost gratefully.

Jim wondered, briefly, how the smaller man was able to accommodate the Vulcan’s rather girthful erection all while trusting him not to drop him. But then tales of Vulcan strength that Jim had only heard of– stories of Spock fighting off multiple Klingons – came to mind and he was reminded that he himself was fully hard, his erection tenting the loose fabric of his boxers. Self-consciously, he reached inside his underwear and took himself in hand, stroking with a good deal more urgency than usual, but the visuals before him were extraordinary. On the occasions he indulged, he usually contented himself with replaying encounters with a past boyfriend. But this was different. This was fantasy. 

This was fantasy sex with a Vulcan. 

Jim let his head drop back to rest on the back of his chair and closed his eyes. The sounds of the actors in front of him were all but drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears and he imagined himself and Spock together, at last. 

He moaned, remembering Spock’s cool hands on his body on those few occasions they’d been able to steal a few moments together, Spock’s touch almost reverent, the way his eyes changed, softened, when he looked at Jim with love.

With a soft moan of his own, Jim reached down with his other hand to cup his balls as he increased the speed of his strokes. A moment later, he climaxed in a hot rush over his hand and onto the t-shirt he still wore.

When his breathing quieted, he opened his eyes and saw that the two men in the holo had also apparently finished. They lay in each other’s arms, kissing in the human way, the prince apparently having found his soul mate. The dialogue was ridiculous, but as they lay together, it was also possibly sweet, the prince idly playing with the Vulcan’s ear and biting at it playfully.

It was at that moment that Jim noticed that part of the Vulcan’s ear had separated from his head; he sat up and peered at it quizzically and saw that it was some sort of false appliance. Feeling suddenly ashamed of himself, he switched the holo off and rose to go and take a shower.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim gets hit on. Spock defends his honor. But not in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry - this is getting longer than anticipated and will be three chapters now.

Jim couldn’t fall back to sleep, so he reported for bridge duty two hours early, relieving both the conn and the on-duty science officer. He was hoping that he’d at least get to work alongside Spock for a few hours before the Captain’s commitments at the trade conference took him away again. It was more and more difficult to get into the swing of being the First Officer when they really hadn’t had a chance to set a routine, but he supposed that was all part of it. Luckily, he’d had a good example to follow from now-Captain Williams. She and Hendorff were away on her new command the USS Hawking, currently doing a mineral survey of the Dahl asteroid belt. Some folks had all the luck.

Spock, however, did not report for duty as expected, ratcheting up Jim’s frustration. He could count on one hand the number of times they’d been alone together in the last weeks, and it was making him doubt the existence of their relationship at all. Spock _had_ told him he was in love with him, Jim had perfect recall of that moment – but did a relationship exist when the two people in it could never spend time together? Jim immediately thought of trees falling in forests, but it didn’t make him feel any better. Nor had his encounter with the porn holo earlier – if anything, it made him feel guilty and a little dirty, and not in the good way.

Alpha shift progressed uneventfully, and Jim took the opportunity to review staffing assignments for the coming month. As both second in command and chief science officer, it fell to him to schedule bridge duty shifts as well as key shifts on the science decks, though he preferred to defer to his department heads to make those recommendations. He was in the midst of approving everything when a communication came through from the planet’s surface.

“Sir, we’re being hailed from the planet,” said Ensign Hu, the replacement officer for Lieutenant Uhura while her duties kept her planetside; Nyota’s skill with multiple languages meant she was invaluable at an interplanetary trade conference. “It’s Captain Spock.”

“On screen,” Jim said, straightening his back and sitting forward in the command chair. Even though he’d sat there several times now, the big chair still made him feel uneasy. Still, Spock’s face on the screen was a welcome sight. “Captain, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Jim said warmly to him.

Spock’s face did not change, but he stiffened marginally. “Commander Kirk,” he said, his voice entirely without affect. “Despite your familiar tone, I trust the ship is in an acceptable state?”

Jim felt stung and adjusted his glasses. “Yes, sir, it is,” he said, making his own manner as formal as possible.

“Then we are fully prepared for an inspection by the joint Vulcan-Betazoid trade delegation?”

“More than prepared, sir. Shall I alert the Commander Lundqvist to ready a reception team to give a tour?” Maryam Lundqvist was the Enterprise’s head of communications, and it was her team’s duty to oversee all tours and other social gatherings whenever there were visiting dignitaries. She had not been getting on very well with Mr. Byrne, and the lack of advance notice for this visit would only add fuel to her fire.

“That will be unnecessary, as their presence will likely hinder us. I will lead the tour personally.”

“Very good sir. When will you arrive?”

“Alert the Transporter Room that we will be ready for beam-out in ten minutes’ time.”

Jim sighed – Lunqvist’s fire just became a conflagration. “I’ll alert all department heads. Shall I meet you in the transporter room?”

Spock’s eyes seemed to soften for a split second, then he was all business once more. “That would be acceptable. Spock out.” 

\----

Eight minutes later, Jim stood in the transporter room, Commander Lundqvist at his side, fuming and muttering to herself about job descriptions and regulations. Jim attempted to tune her out, but, as a half-Traxian, her hair kept switching from its usual blonde to a vibrant shade of fuchsia, reflecting her shifting mood. 

There was a signal from the planet below and soon enough, six figures materialized on the pad. Captain Spock was accompanied by two Vulcan men, one of whom, Ambassador Sklar, Jim had met the day before; the other was his aide Stanek. The other three were Betazoid – one man and two women. Captain Spock looked around the transporter room with a cold expression on his face, one that Jim could not quite fathom. He was suddenly self-conscious and worried that he’d gotten something wrong, regulation-wise, with receiving their guests.

Jim straightened and stood at attention, Lundqvist pulling it together to do the same. “Welcome to the Enterprise,” Jim said with a smile for their guests. “The Captain has informed me you’re to receive a tour of the ship. We’re honored to receive you.”

“It’s an honor to be received,” the Betazoid man said with a smile, stepping forward.

“Ambassador Mynar, may I present Lieutenant Commander James Kirk, the Enterprise’s Chief Science Officer and my second in command?” Spock said, stepping towards Jim as well. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Jim said, wiping his hand on his slacks before holding it out to the Ambassador. 

“The pleasure is mine, Commander,” Mynar replied as he took Jim’s hand. Mynar appeared to be about Spock’s age – a young man for an ambassador, Jim thought. He was tall, with dark, shoulder-length, wavy hair he wore swept back from his forehead. His eyes were dark – like all Betazoids – but they were large and expressive, and Jim could perceive a sharpness in them as the man spoke. “I have heard – and read – many accounts of your bravery, Commander.” His hand was large, and he squeezed Jim’s hand warmly, patting the back of it with his other hand. 

Jim could feel his cheeks coloring. “I acted according to the best of my abilities,” he stammered.

“And saved two planets in the process! You are far more humble than most humans I’ve met,” Mynar said.

“Guess you haven’t met that many.”

Mynar laughed lightly and dropped Jim’s hand, gesturing to his Betazoid companions – who Jim assumed were his assistants – to join in on the merriment, which they did. 

Jim dreaded the blush that crept into his cheeks and ears even as it happened. “Ambassador Sklar, it is pleasing to meet you again,” he said to the Vulcan, holding his hand up in the Vulcan ta’al.

“It is neither logical nor practical for you to take pleasure in my presence, Commander, although I presume you mean only to be courteous, and so I accept your greeting,” Sklar replied with typical Vulcan bluntness. 

“Ah, Vulcans make the best house guests, do they not, Commander?” Mynar asked with raised eyebrows.

“Well, at least they get to the point,” Jim said truthfully to a round of laughter from the Betazoid delegation. 

Spock stared resolutely at the floor.

“Shall we begin our tour in main engineering?” Jim asked, and gestured for them to leave the transporter room, Spock taking the lead.

Jim tagged along because he knew Spock would want him to; these were important guests and they should have both the Captain and his second in command take them around the ship. As the tour progressed, though, Jim felt a weird kind of malaise take him over, so by the time they were done in Engineering, he was bringing up the rear. When he tripped on his way out of the turbolift onto Deck 8, Ambassador Mynar caught his arm and steadied him. 

“I’m sorry, Ambassador, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he said, leaning on the man’s arm until he could get his feet under him.

“Are you quite well, Commander Kirk?” said Spock, who was at his side almost before Jim realized it.

“I – I think so,” Jim said, removing his glasses and pressing his fingertips against his temple. He realized he had a throbbing headache all of a sudden, and an incessant buzzing in his ears. 

“You do not look well. Perhaps I should summon Doctor McCoy?” Spock’s voice was pitched low so that only Jim could hear, and he had angled his body so that Jim saw only him, a consideration that was appreciated. 

“I’ll be fine – I didn't get much sleep last night, and then I skipped breakfast. I’m sure that’s all it is.”

“You are certain?”

When Jim looked up into his eyes, they were filled with concern; the sight warmed him and he managed a wan smile. “I’ll be fine.” 

Jim sucked it up, straightened his back, and led the party on a tour of the Science Labs, albeit a brief one. When they got to Stellar Cartography, Gaila happened to be on duty to calibrate some of their equipment. As she enthusiastically explained what she was doing to the group – and flirted outrageously with the Vulcans – Jim hung back, leaning against a nearby workbench and rubbing at his temples to ease the throbbing in his skull.

“You _are_ unwell,” came a murmured voice. 

When Jim looked up, he saw Ambassador Mynar standing in front of him with a kind smile on his full lips. He stood up then, not wanting to appear unprofessional in front of their important guest. “The last few weeks have been very tiring – I think it’s all just catching up to me.”

Mynar nodded sympathetically. “My people have spent many years studying and mapping the pathways of the brain – as telepaths, you could say it is a very relevant pursuit. One of the things we have discovered to be soothing for a headache is by applying light pressure to the hands or feet.”

“We have similar therapies.”

“My mother was quite the adept.” Mynar gestured to Jim’s hands. “May I, Commander?”

Jim nodded his permission and the ambassador took Jim’s hand in his. His touch was light but warm. He took Jim’s right hand in both of his and flexed the wrist back, all the while rubbing at a spot between Jim’s thumb and forefinger. 

“You are human, but your anatomy is quite similar to Betazoids,” Mynar said.

“Really?” Jim felt sleepy suddenly, though his headache hadn’t eased at all. 

“Is it working?” 

Mynar’s eyes were large and very expressive. Jim found himself staring into them dully. He opened his mouth to reply, though it felt like it would take a lot of effort to speak.

“Is what working?” another voice asked. Spock had come to stand beside them, and the look on his face was, for a Vulcan, practically thunderous. Jim pulled his hand away from Mynar self-consciously. 

“I was attempting to ease the Commander’s headache by applying a light massage to his pressure points,” Mynar explained.

“Were you?” Spock asked coldly.

“His discomfort had quite obviously increased.”

“Commander?” Spock raised an eyebrow and looked at Jim, who felt like he was looking at everything through about six feet of water. It was a weird sensation, and he tried to shake his head to dispel it, but that only caused him to become dizzy.

“You are _not_ well,” Spock said sternly, staring intently into Jim’s eyes as he took his arm.

Jim had to look away. “I’m just tired.”

“Jimmy, you OK?” Gaila said, attracted by the commotion.

“He is… ill,” Spock said.

“I’m fine.” 

“You are relieved of duty.” 

“What? Captain – it’s just a headache for crying out loud.”

“Are you ambulatory?”

“What? Of course I am.”

“Lieutenant Mara will accompany you to your quarters, to be sure you arrive safely.”

“Spock –“ Jim said in protest, but Spock raised a quelling eyebrow. “Yes, Captain,” Jim said, cowed, and let Gaila lead him away.

They were in the turbo lift before either of them said a word.

“Holy heck, did you see the _daggers_ the Captain was staring at that Betazoid ambassador?”

Jim shook his head – some of the buzzing in his ears had begun to dissipate, thankfully. “What are you talking about?” It was clear to Jim that Spock had been displeased that he’d continued on with the tour even though he was sick. He probably looked like an idiot in front of all those Vulcans, and that’s why Spock was so obviously mad at him. 

“Don’t tell me you didn't see the look on Spock’s face when the man touched you, Jim?”

“What look? He looked like a Vulcan.” But that was not strictly true, and they both knew it. However, Jim thought he looked angry with him more than Mynar.

“A jealous Vulcan.”

“You’re crazy,” Jim said, but her words stuck with him as he trudged through the door to his quarters. He really was very tired and his head hurt – albeit, much less now than before – so he stripped and climbed into bed. He fell asleep thinking about possessive Vulcans.

\---- 

Jim woke when he felt his bed dip down beneath the weight of another person. When he opened his eyes, Spock was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down on him with a fond expression on his face. “Hey,” he said with a smile. “What time is it?”

“It is 18:30.”

“What? I practically slept the whole day away!” He pushed himself up – or tried to, anyway; Spock pushed him back down on the bed with a hand in the middle of his chest. 

“You should continue to rest.”

“I feel fine. Better than fine, actually.” He ran the first two fingers of his right hand down the back of the hand Spock held against him, a light, teasing touch that ended with his fingertips resting against Spock’s fingernails.

Spock shivered. “I am gratified.” Lowering his lashes, he leaned forward and caught Jim’s mouth in a soft kiss. Jim turned his hand and rested his fingertips at Spock’s throat, sighing into his mouth. Spock deepened the kiss, and Jim raised his other arm, wrapping it around Spock’s waist to pull him closer. But Spock pulled away a moment later, allowing his nose to brush against Jim’s lightly, then sat up.

“No, wait. Come back,” Jim said in a deliberately whiny voice, blinking up at Spock with the same expression he used to try on his mother to talk her into letting him do something. As with Winona, it didn't work this time either, but at least Spock looked torn.

“I must go. And so must you, if you are truly well. You have an engagement planetside.”

“No, I don’t – I checked my schedule earlier.”

Spock looked regretful. “I am afraid that you do – you will take my place at a reception for the Tellarite delegation. I cannot attend, as I must now have dinner with our latest guests onboard ship.”

“Oh. Is it important?”

Spock looked like he wanted to say something more than what he did. “I am afraid so. They will be traveling with us after the conference is concluded – it is the politic thing to do.”

Jim sighed; he hated crowds, hated performing for them even more. “Can’t I do the dinner onboard ship instead? At least I already know those guys.” 

“No,” Spock said shortly, but then his eyes softened. “I am afraid I have specific business to discuss with the Betazoid ambassador.”

Jim only just repressed the urge to roll his eyes. He sat up, took his glasses from the nightstand, and sighed.

“Our participation in this tour is nearly at an end,” Spock told him, sensing his displeasure.

“That’s what you think – there’s talk of going to Andoria after Risa. And then what? Romulus? This is getting ridiculous, Spock.”

“I concur, but it is our duty, and we must abide by it.” 

He laid his hand on Jim’s shoulder and Jim leaned his head to the side so that his cheek nuzzled the back of it. Spock smiled. “If it is any consolation to you, I will order Doctor McCoy to accompany you this evening.”

\----

“I just don’t see why I need to go through this again.” Bones didn't stop complaining about having to attend the Tellarite reception even as he and Jim beamed down to New City. 

“Maybe the Captain thinks you’re good at it – all that Southern gentility’s doing you some good, Bones,” Jim replied once they materialized.

Bones raised a critical eyebrow. “Probably more like _you_ not wanting to be all by your lonesome down here, and he couldn’t resist you battin’ your eyes at him.”

Jim clutched at an imaginary set of pearls. “Bones, you wound me,” he accused before stepping off the transporter pad.

The reception they were about to attend really was an important one; a number of key Federation politicos and their retinues who were on-planet for an unrelated meeting would be in attendance, and had been invited specifically because of the presence of the Enterprise crew. 

The venue for the reception was in one of the larger, more exclusive hotels in New City, where apparently no expense was being spared by the Tellarite delegation. Jim and Bones took a moment to admire the vaulted atrium through which they walked – it reminded Jim more of a Terran cathedral than a hotel.

“Jim? Leonard?” They turned at the sound of a familiar voice to find Uhura approaching from across the lobby. “Where’s Captain Spock?”

“He had a conflict,” Jim explained. “He’s now hosting the Betazoid and Vulcan delegation up on the ship.”

She looked confused but nodded her head, accepting it. “Well, we’d better get going – I’m sure Mr. Byrne will want to know where we are at _every moment_.” She rolled her eyes and Jim was pleased to see that at least he wasn’t the only one who found the man to be tiresome.

When they arrived, the reception was already in full swing, and they were asked to wait in a small anteroom until they would be announced to the attendees. 

“Are we late?” Bones asked, checking his chrono.

Uhura shook her head. “No – Tellarites are just overachievers when it comes to punctuality. In trade negotiations, they never accept a business rival arriving earlier than they do, so they’re always early. Of course, when they’re dealing with other Tellarites, earlier than early becomes _early_. Sometimes, they’ll have completed negotiations with each other hours before the scheduled start time of a meeting. Most of these guys have been here over an hour.”

“No, I _specified_ White Star of Night blooms for the head table, _not_ Vulcan orchids. These are _un_ acceptable.” 

Jim flinched when he heard Byrne’s shrill voice cutting some poor low-level employee down.

“B-but they’re impossible to export,” a low voice portested, “illegal even.”

“They are Captain Spock’s favorite. I will not be held responsible for the consequences if he finds out,” Byrne responded hotly.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Byrne…”

“You’ve failed me, you’ve failed your employer, and you’ve failed your entire race. Get out of my sight.”

Jim sidestepped as a rather large and imposing Gorn hurried out of the small room.

“Everything is ruined. _Ruined_!” Byrne shouted after the hapless reptile, having followed him to the door. When he saw Jim, Bones, and Nyota standing there, he looked them up and down in disgust. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Just who do you think you’re talking to?” Bones asked, bristling.

Byrne’s face immediately transformed into a pleasant smile. “Doctor! I kid, I kid! Come in, come!”

He ushered them all into the room. “Where’s the Captain?” he said, looking expectantly down the corridor they’d just walked up to get here.

“The Captain sends his regrets,” Jim said, “But something came up – you get me instead.”

“And me,” Bones added, resting his chin on Jim’s shoulder.

Byrne looked like he might have smelled something dead for just a moment, then beamed at them. “Come with me!” he said, slinging his ever-present PADD around his hip, pivoting, and slinking off toward the reception.

\----

The party was actually quite fun when Jim allowed himself to relax, though he did manage to have a few very bizarre conversations.

“Commander, allow me to introduce you to B’lai the Beauteous, prime consort to crown Prince Tawrwg the Blithe of Sentius Major.”

Jim spared a glance at Byrne and then looked up at B’lai, who towered over them both; at an average seven and a half feet tall, the Pankhut people of Sentius Major had always reminded Jim of large birds more than anything else. Really wrinkly birds.

“It is my absolute pleasure to meet you, madam,” Jim said, smiling up at her and taking her proffered flipper. 

Her dewlap blushed crimson with pleasure. “Commander, the pleasure is all mine,” she said in a voice that made her sound as if she was having difficulty swallowing a large fish. “I have followed your recent exploits most avidly. _Most avidly_.” She leaned forward with a conspiratorial air, which had the unnerving effect of making her look more like a turkey vulture about to devour a dead cow. “Tell me, Commander, is it true what they say about Romulans? _Is it true_?”

“I’m afraid I’m not certain what you’re referring to.”

“Have they got two penises between their legs? _Two penises_?”

If Jim had been drinking something, he most definitely would have done a spit take. “I’m afraid I have no data to support or discount that theory,” he managed to say. 

She looked disappointed. 

“They are very strong, though,” Jim added, hoping that this detail might satisfy her obvious desire for salacious rumor. “One of them threw me all the way across a room.”

“Was it a bedroom? _A bedroom_?”

\----

“Commander Kirk?”

Jim turned around to find two Caitian women smiling up at him.

“Yes, that’s me,” he said cheerily. “But I’m afraid you have an advantage over me, because I don’t know your names.”

“My name is Rumar, and this is my sistermate Ramur,” the one on the left said in a soft voice.

“We have been watching you all evening,” Ramur added in an identical voice that was more like a purr than anything else. They stood very close together, their long, serpent-like tails intertwining, constantly moving against each other. 

“I hope that’s a good thing,” he joked.

“It is. We are most keen to observe humans whenever we may,” Ramur said. “You are so exotic.”

“So different,” Rumar agreed. “We just like to hear you talk.”

“And move.”

“And sit.”

“And do anything, really.”

“Thanks, that’s… really flattering.”

“I like how they say Rs,” Rumar said to her sister. “Flatterrring.” She overemphasized the consonant in an approximation of Jim’s Terran accent.

“Yes, yes,” Ramur agreed, then looked at Jim. “Say something in Terran.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Jim said in English rather than Standard.

“Gods, so cute,” Rumar said, parting from her sister to stand on Jim’s other side. She took his right arm as Ramur took his left. “So cute,” Ramur agreed.

Jim jumped as he felt the pressure of their tails against his bottom. “Oh hey now, that’s not so cute.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself,” Ramur purred. “I’m sure it’s _very_ cute.” She got up on her toes so she could whisper in his ear, ”I would like to see how cute it is as I explore it with my tail.”

“Oh, hey now, wow!” Jim said as the tip of said tail pressed rather insistently between his legs from behind. He extricated himself from their hands and turned to face them. “I am sorry, ladies, but this is very inappropriate behavior.”

“Humans – so hung up on their quaint morals,” Rumar observed.

“Only in public, though,” Ramur pointed out. “In private I am told it is quite different.” She made a lewd gesture with her tail.

“I hear they can go all night long.”

“Come on, it’s not like that at all,” Jim said, trying not to sound prudish. “I mean, I’m sure I could go all night, just not with you.” When they appeared to be shocked, he hastily added, “I mean not with anyone. I have a boyfriend.” 

They nodded their understanding, looked at each other, then at him, and answered in unison, “You can bring him along.”

\----

“I think Byrne has the wrong idea about me,” Jim hissed into Bones’ ear when he found him.

“What makes you say that, Jimmy-Boy?” Bones was half way through an actual mojito – Jim wondered how they got limes this far from Earth – and aimed a wide grin Jim’s way.

“All these women keep making passes at me.”

Bones looked him up and down appraisingly. “You _are_ rocking the dress greys. I mean, I’d even do ya.”

“Shut up, Bones, I’m being serious. The Tellarite ambassador’s wife just asked me to –“ Jim stopped short of repeating what she actually said. “Well, let’s just say it involves a lot of personal lubricant.”

Bones choked on a mint leaf. “She what? You have any idea how jealous Tellarite males get? They have tusks, Jim.”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Jim said, trying desperately to keep his voice down. 

“So what makes you think it’s Byrne’s doing?”

Jim looked around like a hunted animal. “Something those Caitians said to me.”

“The twins? Color me impressed. I didn't think you had it in ya.”

“I don’t, Bones, and get your mind out of the gutter. Anyway, when they seemed surprised I wasn’t interested in a threesome with them, they told me they were told otherwise, and one of them looked over in Byrne’s direction.”

“You don’t say,” Bones said, his eyes moving over the room until they stopped on someone. When Jim looked, he saw it was Byrne, who had a smug expression on his face. Bones glared at him until he looked away.

“Do I give off, like, a slutty vibe or something?”

“You? Hardly. Listen, these big shindigs always lead to some screwy shenanigans – you get a bunch of people cooped up all day in meetings and then feed ‘em free alcohol, some weird shit’s bound to happen. You’re just fresh meat or something. I mean, you haven’t really been to many of these parties, right? So they’re all taking their boredom out on you.”

“You think?” The thought didn't exactly make Jim feel less uneasy about what happened, but at least he didn't have to be paranoid about Byrne.

“Sure. Look, I’d say you’ve put in enough of an appearance this evening – why don’t you call it a night and get some rest back on board ship? If it helps, we can say it’s doctor’s orders.”

Jim looked at his chrono – it was only 22:30 – it’d be nice to call it a night early. “That’s a good idea, Bones.”

\----

When Jim got back to his quarters, he was glad he took Bones’ advice – Spock was in his own quarters, his door to the bathroom was open, and he was still awake. Jim took the invitation for what it was and entered.

“You’re here!” Jim said happily from the doorway of the living area.

“Indeed, I am. I cannot recall the last time I was able to get to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

“So that’s what you want tonight? To go to sleep?” Jim kept his tone teasing, and was happy to note that it was apparently working. 

Spock rose from this desk and crossed over to him, taking him in his arms. “I presume you had other ideas?”

“I have too many ideas by now,” Jim said even as Spock’s mouth covered his. They made out for several minutes while Jim backed them slowly over towards the couch. He sat when his legs made contact, pulling Spock with him.

“I trust you had an uneventful evening,” Spock said as he settled beside Jim. He gently fingered the collar of Jim’s dress grey uniform.

Jim rolled his eyes and reached up to undo his collar. “You could _say_ that, sure.”

“Did something important happen?”

“Nothing important, no.” Jim smiled and planted a soft kiss on Spock’s chin. “How about you – how was dinner with the Vulcan and Betazoid contingent?”

Spock’s eyes clouded. “I should know better than to underestimate the stress of being in the presence of other telepaths.”

“Oh? I had no idea. Is it hard to be among Vulcans after so long?”

“It was not the Vulcan contingent I was referring to. Vulcans respect one’s autonomy when it comes to these matters – it is one of our most basic laws.”

“And Betazoids don’t?”

“The vast majority of them do, but a very small minority do not. They see their abilities as a talent to be used and exploited for personal gain. It is immoral.”

Jim thought back over the events of the day and frowned. “Is Ambassador Mynar one of those?”

Spock looked away. “I had hoped to shield you from his impropriety.”

“Is that what made me sick? Was he reading my mind?” Jim’s skin suddenly felt like it would crawl right off his body. He sat up, dislodging himself from Spock’s embrace.

“I believe he was attempting it, yes.”

“Ew. Why? Ew.”

“I cannot speak to his motives, though I had some words with him when we had a private moment. He… confessed to being attracted to you personally, and wanted to gauge if there was a level of interest.”

“This is not making me feel less freaked out, Spock.” Jim ran his hand through his hair nervously.

“When it became clear to me what he was doing, I took steps to remove you from his presence. Luckily, telepathy is a matter of proximity, and once you were away from him, you would no longer feel the effects of his probing mind.”

Jim thought back to Spock’s curt demeanor earlier in the day, the way he’d spoken to him, the looks he was throwing at Mynar, and it all made sense. “Were you defending my honor?” he asked, trying to affect a teasing tone.

“I was taking action against one who was attempting to compromise a member of my crew.”

“You got in his face because he was making a move on me.” Jim was grinning now.

“I… was disabusing him of the notion that his… advances would be welcome.”

“You got jealous.” Jim turned back towards Spock and put his arms around him. “That is so hot.”

“Is it? Then I do not regret inviting the Betazoids to find alternative means of travel after the conference has concluded.”

“You kicked him off the ship for me?” Jim removed his glasses so he could kiss Spock, long and hard, pressing him back until he was lying on top of him on the couch. “Were you jealous?” Jim asked, kissing a trail along Spock’s jaw and taking the lobe of his ear gently between his teeth.

Spock’s voice wavered as he spoke. “I… I believe… that I… oh no, do not stop doing that,” he demanded, holding Jim’s head against his ear as Jim began to suck lightly on its tip.

Jim laughed lightly. “That makes me hotter than anything you can imagine,” Jim said.

“Does it?”

Jim nodded. “What else would you do to defend my honor?” he breathed into Spock’s ear.

“I… I would do whatever… my duty… compelled me…” Spock swallowed thickly as he turned his face into Jim’s neck and began to mouth gently against the pulse point.

“Would you have hit him?”

“Violence is a last resort.”

“Can you pretend you would?”

“Such fancies are… oh!” Spock’s words failed as Jim began to suck on his ear. When he nipped playfully at the lobe, Spock made a sound deep within his chest and suddenly surged forward, switching their positions.

“Illogical?” Jim asked breathlessly, delighted to have Spock on top of him and so, _so_ turned on. 

“Not without consequences.”

Jim bit his lip and looked up at his lover. Spock’s pupils were wide, making his eyes nearly black with desire, and one of the “consequences” of their own actions was hard and pressing against Jim’s hip. “Spock?” 

“Yes?”

“Could you um, could you rip my clothes off?”

“That would also be illogical. Dress uniforms are surprisingly costly to replace.”

“Oh.”

“The expense would have to come from your pay, Jim.”

“OK, I get it.”

“However, I might be persuaded to open your jacket with a certain degree of forcefulness.”

“Yeah?”

“Buttons are inexpensive and easily replicated.”

Jim grinned as Spock sat up and reached for the closures on Jim’s dress uniform. Jim gasped as Spock pulled roughly and the buttons ripped, flying off in all directions and clattering across the floor. Jim went dizzy as practically all the blood in his body rushed straight to his groin, and then Spock’s hands were on him, insistent and strong, kneading at his muscles and tugging Jim against him in a constant give and take as they commenced kissing again. It was a darn good thing Jim was lying down.

Minutes passed. Jim stopped keeping count. Bouts of kissing were interspersed by pauses to remove items of clothing until they were naked but for their briefs. Spock was on top again and slightly to the side, lying against the back of the couch. Jim liked the weight of him on top of him, found it reassuring in a way. Spock flinched lightly as Jim’s fingertips toyed with the thick patch of dark chest hair he had. “Are you ticklish?” Jim asked.

“My skin reacts to certain stimuli in a predictable manner.”

“You’re ticklish,” Jim confirmed and stopped, laying the flat of his palm over the area and letting it travel downwards tentatively. He moved his hand slowly – possibly too slowly, because Spock pulled away to look down on him.

“You may touch my genitals if you wish to, Jim. I would find it very pleasurable.”

“I, um –“

“There is nothing to be ashamed of – this is part of the mechanics of lovemaking.”

“Well, it’s just… I’ve never…”

“You told me you were not a virgin.”

“I’m not – jeepers!” Jim covered his eyes with the hand that had been resting on Spock’s hipbone. “It’s just – I’ve never seen you naked before.”

“And I have never seen you fully unclothed either.”

“But I know what I look like – I don’t know what you, uh, _look_ like.”

“Nor do I – I believe this discovery of each other’s bodies is part of the initial appeal of this act is it not?” 

Jim’s cheeks, he was sure, would burst into flames at any moment. “But I’ve never seen an alien’s… I mean…” Now he covered his entire face with both hands.

Spock made a strange noise and Jim peered up at him. “You’re laughing at me?”

“Jim, it is natural to be curious.”

“I called you an alien.”

“Am I not alien to you? As you are to me?”

“It just sounds so… wrong.”

“It is a word like any other – you did not mean it xenophobically, therefore I do not take it as such.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

Spock smiled again. “That may be true, though I will not be the judge of it,” he said, then shimmied down Jim’s body while pushing Jim’s briefs down his legs with his free hand. “I believe I will fellate you now.”

“Now I _know_ I don’t deserve – OH!” Jim said, all embarrassment at his faux pas forgotten as Spock’s mouth closed around the head of his penis and his tongue did a swirling motion that made him forget to breathe. An entirely too short time later, he patted weakly at Spock’s shoulder. “You’d better stop, I – oh wow, I’m gonna…”

Spock pulled off with a smacking sound. “You are going to what?”

“Make number three?”

Spock’s eyes sparkled as if he was laughing at Jim again, but his expression didn’t change. Instead he moved up and over Jim again, kissing him breathless once more.

“Spock… Spock… I…”

“Mmm?”

“Will you please make love to me? Please?”

“Nothing would give me more pleasure, Jim.” He stood and disappeared in the bedroom, returning to Jim’ arms a moment later with some lube and a condom. He lay down atop Jim again and began to prep him with gentle fingers, until Jim was humming with impatience.

“How would you like me to proceed?” Spock asked at last.

Jim slung his arms around Spock’s neck and held him tight. “D’you think we could do it, like, standing up?” he whispered into his ear.

Spock moved until his face was hovering above Jim’s with a curious expression on it. “That is what you wish?”

Jim nodded, the image of the porno he’d watched the night before replaying itself in his mind. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want only to please you.” He rose and pulled Jim to his feet and into his arms. “I love you,” he added as his mouth closed over Jim’s again.

Spock held Jim tightly, a hand at the small of his back; Jim couldn’t resist the urge to grind against him. Spock encouraged him, lifting his leg and resting it around his waist. The friction as Jim’s penis dragged against Spock’s was delicious, but a moment later he flinched as his hip joint overextended and he felt a stab of discomfort. 

“Something is wrong?” Spock asked.

“No, it’s just – the angle’s not quite right, hang on a minute.” Jim tried it again, this time standing on his tiptoes on the foot that remained on the ground. Spock was taller than him, and the angle wasn’t quite right to make it comfortable. “Maybe if you could –“ Jim pushed one of Spock’s hands down to hold onto his butt, recalling that that was how the porno actors had done it. Spock managed to lift him off the floor, and Jim clung to him, scrambling to balance himself with both arms around Spock’s neck. They seemed very top heavy and Jim felt like they might fall. “Maybe if we lean against a wall?”

They moved together towards the nearest wall, where they tried again. It was easier with Jim’s back resting against the wall, but the distribution of their weight still seemed very off.

“I believe we are too evenly matched in weight for this to work effectively,” Spock said into Jim’s armpit. 

“No wait, what if I –“ 

Jim tried to twist around a bit but his leg around Spock’s waist slipped. The shift unbalanced them completely and they fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs, Jim on top.

“Well that was a disaster,” Jim laughed. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sorry. Spock?”

Jim looked down on Spock and saw that his face had gone completely pale. He pushed himself up on his arms so he could give him some space, and once he did, the Vulcan turned onto his side and curled in on himself with a low moan.

“Spock? What’s wrong?” Spock did not answer – he apparently could not as he was clearly in some amount of excruciating pain. “Spock!”

“Jim,” he said, his voice very strained, but it managed to calm Jim down. “Please summon Doctor McCoy.”

Jim tripped twice on his way across the room to get to the communicator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know Tellarites don't have tusks - humor me?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byrne reveals his true colors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, at long last, here is the conclusion to this story.
> 
> Extra special thanks to mimblebee for taking up the challenge of beta reading this monster. I could not have wished for a more thorough and incisive job!

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE SPRAINED HIS PENIS?” Jim flinched at the volume of his own voice.

Bones shrugged, his bland doctor’s expression in full effect. “I mean what I said – anything with a joint can be sprained. As Vulcans have penile bones, it is possible to sprain them. I tell you though, kid, this is the first I’ve heard of it actually _happening_. Just what the hell were you doin’ to him?”

Jim clamped his lips together and cursed his over reactive blushing reflex. “Never you mind.”

Bones shrugged. “Whatever, but it’s not as if I can’t figure it out.” He turned back to his medkit and pulled out a hypospray. “I splinted it, and I’ll give this to him for the pain, though if I know him, he’ll refuse. Is there anything else you need?”

“You tell me.”

“There’s no cure for blue balls, Jimmy,” Bones said with a wicked laugh and walked through to Spock’s bedroom.

Jim trailed behind him and hung in the doorway while Bones spoke with Spock about his condition, not wanting to eavesdrop. Spock allowed Bones to administer the painkiller – so he was in a lot of pain, Jim was distressed to realize – then laid a hand on Spock’s shoulder as they finished their conversation. Spock nodded politely to the doctor, and Bones turned to leave. 

“See if you can keep your hands off him for the next few days, eh Jimmy boy?” Bones said as he walked past, and Jim would have cursed him out if he could find it within himself at all.

“You do not need to keep your distance, Jim,” Spock called to him from the bed a few moments later. He sat propped against some pillows, looking tired, but at least his color looked more or less normal.

“I’m afraid I might kill you or something.” 

“That is unlikely. Come,” Spock said, extending a hand.

Jim reluctantly crossed the room to stand beside the bed. He was unable to look at Spock. “I’m sorry I broke your penis.”

“It is merely sprained,” Spock reminded him. “And I think I bear some of the responsibility. I might have said no to you if I thought this would happen.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I thought this would happen,” Jim said forlornly. “I’m sorry I even brought it up.”

Spock held out the first two fingers of his hand and Jim met them with his own. The contact was calming, and he sat down on the edge of the bed, still frowning. “There is Terran saying about silver plated clouds, is there not?”

Jim relaxed; he knew very well that Spock knew the expression. “A silver lining? Here?”

“I believe so. We still have the night ahead of us, and we can spend it together for the first time in many weeks. I would call that an acceptable outcome, do you agree?”

“I suppose.”

“That is fortuitous. Now come,” he pulled the covers on the bed back and patted the space beside him, “the drugs Doctor McCoy administered are making me very tired, and I can think of nothing I would enjoy more than falling asleep beside you.”

The warmth that suffused Jim’s entire body was nearly worth the tumult of the evening, because in that moment he knew that if Spock loved him, nothing bad could ever happen. 

\----

Bones confined Spock to his cabin for the next three days, which Jim could tell did not sit well with the captain, but he had no choice. “Unless you want me to report to ‘Fleet exactly how you came to be incapacitated?” he suggested, making the captain acquiesce grudgingly.

Luckily, the trade conference was winding down, and their orders were to proceed to Vulcan, where the entire crew was to be treated with a shore leave and the senior staff to be presented to the high council at a formal state dinner. The journey would take three days at warp five, which meant that Spock would be able to participate in the festivities when they arrived – if such an event could be called festive. In the meantime, Jim was happy to cover Spock’s shifts and get the crew ready for a well-deserved, if too brief, respite from the boredom of the last several weeks.

He was just leaving for shift through Spock’s door when he was stopped short by Mr. Byrne, who appeared to be most perturbed. “Yes, Mr. Byrne, how can I help you?” he asked, trying to sound friendly.

“I am here to see Spock. I need to know why he has canceled all his meetings for the day. These are important meetings, with important people – he cannot _not_ attend.”

“ _The captain_ has been injured, and Doctor McCoy ordered bed rest for the next three days.”

“But I must discuss this Betazoid situation with him – the ambassador’s people are _very_ put out.”

Jim crossed his arms and blocked Byrne as he tried to get past him to the door. “Did you not hear me? Captain Spock cannot see you today; he is ill.”

“Well, which is it, ill or injured?”

Jim spluttered for a moment. “What difference does it make? You can’t see him and that’s final.”

“Yes, but—” Byrne again tried to push past Jim to get to Spock’s door. Jim lowered his shoulder to prevent him. Frustrated, Byrne made a high-pitched noise as he bounced back on his heels. He tried to trip Jim up by snaking a foot behind his ankle, but thanks to the hand-to-hand training that Hendorff had drilled into him for months, Jim was easily able to deflect him.

“Mr. Byrne, this is getting ridiculous.”

For a moment, Jim thought he saw something approaching a murderous glint in the other man’s eyes. “Commander, I demand you stop keeping the captain from me, I have work to do!” he said, his voice suddenly shrill. He raised his always-present PADD over his shoulder as if he might hit Jim with it.

Jim’s adrenaline spiked and he took a step forward, right into the man’s personal space. “Mr. Byrne, do you know what my primary duty is? No? Well, I’ll tell you: to make sure the man behind this door remains safe and capable of commanding this vessel. That means I not only provide him with my expertise and support while we are on a mission, but I will also do whatever is necessary to protect him. And when he is sick, that includes keeping him from being accosted by self-important, time-wasting _doody-heads_ such as you.” Jim grimaced. “And now you’ve made me swear!” he scolded.

Something in his face made Byrne back down, and Jim struggled to contain his temper. He took a deep breath. “I am acting captain while Spock is indisposed, so if you have some business to conduct, you’re just going to have to settle for me.”

\----

Jim would probably regret his outburst at some point – and by about the second hour of his meeting with a cold and dismissive Byrne to review the details of the trade conference’s closing ceremonies, he almost did – but he felt better for having stood by his principles. 

They were back on board with a course laid in for Vulcan by mid-afternoon, and it was with a palpable sense of relief that Jim took over the command chair for the last couple of hours remaining in the shift. He was happy to clear his mind of the useless protocols he had had to clutter it with and focus on the plain, happy tedium of running a starship.

“Everything go smoothly planetside?” Nyota asked him in the turbolift afterwards. 

Jim gave it serious thought. “Do you mean from my perspective, or from Mr. Byrne’s?” he asked warily; he didn't want to displease Nyota at all, whose job it was to ensure that crew visiting any planet reflected positively on the ship.

“Did anything blow up? Were wars declared?” she asked archly.

“No.”

“Then I’d say you aced it.”

He smiled gratefully and removed his glasses, polishing them on his shirt. “If you had told me my primary duties would be escorting planetary officials’ spouses to cocktail parties when I took this gig, I’d have said you were crazy.”

“We all have our parts to play in the grander scheme,” she reminded him.

“I know, I know. It’s just that I figured my part would include a bit more space exploration and a bit less hiney-grabbing.”

“Jim, I told you that’s a standard form of greeting among Galladians.”

“And I still don’t believe you,” he said morosely. 

He got off on deck ten and made for the officer’s mess to get dinner for him and Spock before heading back to his quarters to review duty rosters. They each had replicators in their cabins, but Jim much preferred the fresh foods on offer in the mess. While in line, he met Bones, who was getting off from his own shift.

“Boy, I never thought I’d find plain old mac and cheese quite so palatable, but after all these soirees and state dinners, I’m finding out how much I missed it,” Bones said, piling a large quantity onto his tray.

“Hopefully, it’ll be over soon. It’s Vulcan, then Risa, then hopefully that’s it, though there were rumors of going to Andoria as well.”

“I dunno if I can handle a desert planet and an ice moon in the same month, Jim.”

“Maybe someday we’ll go on a real mission again.”

Bones gave him the side-eye and crossed his arms. “Next time you’re stranded on some gods-forsaken shithole of a class M planet in the middle of an ion storm with no provisions, I’ll have to remind you of this conversation, my friend.”

Jim made a face and continued to follow Bones through the line. He chose two salads, a plate of spaghetti marinara for himself, and a bowl of a spicy Andorian vegetable stew he noticed Spock favored. 

“So, kid, I’ve been meaning to ask…”

“Oh boy, here we go,” Jim said, closing his eyes.

“What? I haven’t said anything.”

“I know what you’re going to say before you do half the time, Bones.”

“That’s because I’m usually grilling you over some boneheaded move and you already know you’ve done something wrong. Now tell me exactly what happened last night?”

Jim refused to allow himself to blush; the capillaries in his face and neck had other ideas. “Aww, Bones, do I have to spell it out for you?” Bones raised an eyebrow and Jim shoved his glasses up his nose. “If you must know, we were trying to, you know…” he dropped his voice down low, “ _you know_.”

“If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it, Jimmy.”

Jim glared at him, but he answered in a whisper, “We were trying to do it standing up.”

“Ah jeez, these are the times I regret my vocation!” Jim gave him a _well, you asked_ look, and he went on, “Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because… because it’s hot, OK?” Jim stammered. “And because I saw it on a holovid.”

“What degenerate is giving you porn?” 

Jim didn't respond. 

“Why did I even ask? It was Gaila, wasn’t it?”

“Well… she said she had Vulcan porn and I was curious.”

“Jim, Vulcans don’t make pornos, it would be illogical.”

“Yeah, well, I figured that one out when the guy’s fake ear fell off. But it was still hot, you know?”

“Well, have you ever tried that move before?”

“Together? No. We haven’t really done much of anything except some kissing.”

Bones closed his eyes in the manner of frustrated best friends across the galaxy; Jim could almost hear him counting to ten inside his head. “So you’ve dated what, a few times, and you’re already trying advanced porn moves?”

“We haven’t gone on any dates.”

“Jeez Louise, you two are a piece o’ work. No wonder you can’t get it together.”

“What do you mean?” Jim paused to pick up a fruit plate for Spock and a cupcake for himself, which Bones frowned at.

“You’re going about it all wrong. Y’all two need to work up to that kind of action, take it slow – go on a few crappy dates and get to know each other. You can’t just skip ahead to the sexy times, Jim, you gotta work up to it.”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, Bones. What should we do, go to the malt shop and sip out of the same soda straw?”

Bones removed the cupcake from Jim’s tray and replaced it with another fruit plate. “Laugh it up, kid. But which one of the three of us has been in a functional relationship for the last twelve years, and which one hasn’t? Hmm?”

Bones had him there – he and Jocelyn had a very happy marriage despite the long distances Bones had to travel for Starfleet. Maybe Jim ought to give it some consideration, he thought, trading out the fruit for the cupcake as soon as Bones’ back was turned.

\----

“We are at warp,” Spock observed when Jim arrived with their dinner. He was seated on the couch reading from a PADD.

Jim nodded. “The close of the conference went well so I didn't see the point in sticking around; the Vulcan delegation is safely on board – I showed the ambassador to his rooms personally.”

Spock rose and moved slowly to join Jim at the table. Clearly, his injury still pained him. “Very good – as I would have expected. Any other issues to report?”

Jim thought back to that morning and decided to keep his mouth shut about Byrne. “Nothing, Captain. I'm happy to just get out of there.”

“These kinds of missions can be tedious,” Spock agreed. “You have held up quite well, if I might make that observation. You are better suited to diplomacy than you think, Jim.” 

“Please don't let that get around.”

“You sell your skills short.”

“Whatever,” Jim said, searching for a change of subject desperately. He knew logically that over the course of his career, and especially as first officer of the _Enterprise_ , he’d have to be involved in any number of diplomatic missions, but he longed to return to the comforting simplicity of research in the science labs. “How are you feeling?” was the best he could come up with. 

"I am in less pain. Doctor McCoy assures me I will be able to return to limited duty in three days. He was unforthcoming as to an estimate for when I might resume sexual activities."

Jim opened his mouth to speak, and Spock forestalled him. “Do not apologize again, Jim, for we were both very enthusiastic participants in the unfortunate events of last night.” He cocked his head to the side and gave Jim his peculiar not-smile, his eyes shining. “We have waited this long, it surely will not be that much of a trial to wait further.”

Jim handed him his salad. “About that – Bones was saying that maybe this was well-timed, happening like it did. He says we're doing it all wrong, that we ought to go on dates or whatever.”

“Did he?” Spock asked, chewing a slice of cucumber thoughtfully. 

“He thinks we should be _courtin'_ ,” Jim said with a smirk, trying out an approximation of Bones’ Georgia accent. 

“Do we not already know each other reasonably well?”

“Well enough to know I’m crazy about you,” Jim said. 

“And I you, though perhaps he has a valid point. We did come together under unusual circumstances – perhaps this human custom of repeated social interaction will add another perspective to our relationship.”

Jim chewed his lip thoughtfully. While he hated to admit to Bones being right about anything, he couldn’t have called anything they’d done together a date. “All right,” he said reluctantly, “I suppose we have kind of done things a bit out of order, and it couldn't hurt to have a few proper dates.” He gestured vaguely at Spock’s lap. “I mean, it’s not as if anything we’ve tried has been all that successful.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. 

Jim went on, “Anyway, let’s not rush it – we’ll be on Vulcan soon. Maybe an opportunity will present itself.”

“A wise plan,” he said, and began eyeing Jim’s cupcake.

“What?”

“Nothing. Do you intend to consume your dessert?”

“Yes.”

“You are certain?”

Jim smiled. “If I didn’t want it, I wouldn’t have gotten it. Anyway, I brought you some fruit – you always eat fruit.”

Spock paused for a beat. “I notice that your cupcake is adorned with specks of brightly-colored sugar. They are visually appealing.”

“Do you want me to run and get you a cupcake, Spock?”

“You have already brought me some fruit, for you to humor my impulsive desire for sweets would be illogical.”

“They had a strawberry one.”

“Yes, please.” 

\----

Jim woke the next morning with Spock’s arm around his waist and his warmth at his back. He made arrangements with Rand for the captain’s meals for the day and headed for the bridge with an orange and a cup of coffee in hand. 

“Anything to report, Mr. Sulu?” he asked as he took a PADD from a waiting yeoman. 

“Engineering reports smooth sailing, sir,” Hikaru said, vacating the command chair and returning to the helm. “We’ve got parsecs of open space ahead of us with no reported problems.”

“Our ETA to Vulcan?” Jim asked, distracted by something on the PADD.

“At our current course and speed, we will arrive in two days,” Pavel reported, swinging around in his chair. “Howewer, if we should choose to conserve power and, perhaps, perform the maintenance that is required on the auxiliary nawigational systems, we will need to decrease our speed to warp three.”

Jim looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows. “You refer to the maintenance that isn’t due for another 90 days?”

“Aye sir,” Pavel replied, his cheeks pinking up.

“Won’t that delay our arrival at Vulcan?”

“Aye, sir, by one and one half days.”

“Don’t we have commitments when we arrive? Fertility festivals to open or shopping malls to christen?”

“On Wulcan, sir?”

“Beyond a state dinner with the Vulcan High Council in three days for the command team, I’m unaware of anything, sir,” Nyota said, turning in her chair. 

Jim looked into the faces of his bridge crew – Hikaru to Pavel to Nyota – and sensed a conspiracy. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a desire to spare the command crew from… official duties, would it?”

“Merely a delay of the hiney-grabbing, sir,” Nyota answered.

Jim tried to control a grateful smile and failed. “I understand the… importance of the maintenance, Mr. Chekov, but I would not like to delay the crew’s shore leave.”

“Understood, sir.”

Jim picked up his PADD and fired it up, then frowned as a meeting reminder flashed on the screen. “What the hay?” he muttered, tapping it. When his morning’s schedule appeared, his frown deepened.

“Yeoman Echols, I appear to have a morning filled with meetings, suddenly,” he commented. 

Echols crossed the bridge to stand at his shoulder. “Yes, Commander. Mr. Byrne wanted to get on your schedule as soon as possible. He said it was very urgent.”

Jim reviewed the titles of the three – _three_ – back-to-back meetings that went on well past the lunch hour, which he had planned to spend with Spock, and sighed. ‘Vulcan History and Engagement Protocols’ one of them was named, followed by one called, simply, ‘Scheduling.’ He bit back a complaint. “These couldn’t have waited until after shift?” 

“Apparently not, sir.”

Jim stood and made his way to the conference room just outside the entrance to the bridge, where he realized he was now ten minutes late for a meeting he hadn’t actually agreed to. 

“Commander Kirk!” Byrne exclaimed, standing with both hands held out beseechingly. “I had begun to despair of ever having the time to meet with you.”

“Well, I am apparently all yours for, uh,” Jim referred to his PADD, just in case he’d read it wrong, but of course he had not, “the next six hours.”

“It’s barely enough time to cover what we need to before we get to Vulcan. There are _so_ many preparations to be made, and we still have the Vulcan trade delegation on board, and not for nothing, we’ve got _you_ in charge!” He gestured at Jim and rolled his eyes. “We’re arriving in just two days, and it’s not enough time, it’s just not!”

“I have had all the requisite training in appropriate protocols, Mr. Byrne,” Jim pointed out. 

But Byrne went on as if Jim hadn’t spoken. “This is Vulcan. _Vulcan_! Fifth largest population in the Federation – think of the _ratings_. We can’t screw this up, and of course by ‘we’ I mean _you_.”

“I am pretty well acquainted with Vulcans, actually. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve served under one for a while.”

“Pish-posh, what has that to do with the subtleties of diplomacy, the art of conversation? What have you, a provincial upstart, to contribute to the mission? Oh, we’re headed for a disaster.”

“Provincial? I grew up in San Francisco.” Byrne glared at him. “Anyway, I thought all we had to do was meet with the high council and attend a state dinner. That’s nothing.”

“Nothing? _Nothing_?” Byrne looked nearly apoplectic. “You’re to be dining with T’Pau herself. Do you understand what that means?”

“Well, no.”

“She is one of Vulcan’s greatest leaders. Her mind the sharpest, most logical since Surak himself. Probably. Oh, I dunno what else, but she scares the bejeezus out of me and you will not screw this up.” He punctuated each of his last syllables by poking at the conference room table with the first two fingers of his right hand. 

“She’s also Spock’s gammy, so… yeah, you’re probably right. Let’s see what’s on your agenda for today, Mr. Byrne.” Jim took the nearest seat.

Byrne’s next words were uttered at such a high octave, Jim wasn’t sure if it could be heard by human ears. When he finally gained some control back, he said, “Yes, we wouldn’t want to have you disappoint Captain Spock in front of his _gammy_.” His last word was dripping with so much sarcasm even Jim picked up on it.

The meeting was long and tedious, as expected. Anything Jim thought might have been important he already knew, and most of what was left was trivial. Except one thing.

“Tell me more about why touching is so taboo with Vulcans?”

“You must never touch a Vulcan in a formal setting. You greet them with a simple _ta’al_ , like so.” Byrne executed the Vulcan salute smoothly, though Jim thought his thumb was improperly placed, nestled up against his forefinger instead of sticking straight out. 

“No, isn’t it more like this?” Jim asked, doing it as he had seen Spock and Sarek do it.

“Who is the interplanetary protocol expert in the room?” Byrne asked. Jim looked behind himself and then at Byrne, who gave him a scathing look. “It is done this way.”

Jim resolved to ask Spock later. “Yeah, but you never said why, exactly, touching is bad.” He touched Spock all the time, and Spock touched him. 

“It is just not done, Commander, is that not enough reason?”

Jim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. A gurgling in his belly reminded him that it was lunchtime, and he had been in this meeting for far too long. “Are we done?” he asked, preparing for more of a fight.

“For now,” Byrne said portentously. “You know, I have other work to do besides bringing a feckless whelp such as you up to speed on these matters.”

“And I have a starship to run,” Jim said, his face heating; he refused to take the bait.

“Perhaps tomorrow Spock will be less indisposed and he and I can discuss important matters, such as his speech.”

“Unfortunately, _the captain_ has been confined to quarters by his doctor for another day, a fact you already know.”

“Ugh, really? I thought that was just a guideline or something. We arrive in two days – I still haven’t discussed his first draft with him!” 

“I’m sure you can do it, Mr. Byrne. Think positive thoughts.” He smiled as widely as he could, practically beaming at the man, who looked disconcerted as he left the conference room.

“Jeez, what’s that look about? You look like a deranged chipmunk,” Bones said, poking his head in the doorway as Byrne left.

Jim scowled. “I think I am a deranged chipmunk. That man—” He pressed his lips together, not wanting to be rude.

“Don’t you worry, I think I’ve got him pretty well pegged,” Bones said, turning his head to watch the man go.

“Pegged how?” Jim asked.

Bones’ face smoothed out. “Nothing, nothing. You want to grab a late lunch with me?”

“It’ll have to be a quickie – I’ve got about a ton of work to get done now.”

Bones raised an eyebrow. “Ease off there, son, I saw the results of your last quickie,” he said sardonically.

Jim’s face got so hot his glasses fogged up. “Aw, come on, Bones! Am I ever gonna live that one down?”

“Not in a million years, Jimmy boy. Now let’s get to the mess, I’m starvin’ to death.”

\----

After shift, Jim spent the remainder of the day on the sciences decks, catching up with his department heads. The hours flew by and before he knew it, it was well past dinnertime. He grabbed a sandwich from the mess and finally called it a day at 22:00.

Spock was reviewing status reports at his desk when Jim entered his quarters. “You are late,” Spock observed. “I trust your day went well?”

“It didn't start off that way, but it ended well. I finally got to do my job, a little, and I liked it very much.”

“That is gratifying to hear, but what happened at the start of the day to make it less than enjoyable?”

Jim sighed and took a seat in the guest chair opposite Spock. “Mr. Byrne thought it would be a fruitful use of my time to review basic diplomatic protocols with me – again – and to offer a crash course in Vulcan 101.”

“He is most thorough and dedicated to his job, though one might allow he can be a bit too… officious at times. I can understand how such attitudes can prove to be difficult to cope with for one as… amiable as you.”

“You think I’m amiable?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Jim smiled thoughtfully. “You know, the meeting was good for a few things. I learned stuff about Vulcan culture that I didn't know before. He said that it is considered rude to touch a Vulcan – more than that, it’s taboo. But he didn't have an explanation as to why.”

“It is not a taboo, but it is correct that Vulcans prefer not to be touched in social situations or, indeed, ever by those who are not among their intimates.”

“Why?”

“It has to do with our telepathic abilities. Vulcans cannot read another’s mind without first touching them, and even then it is merely surface thoughts and emotions that are accessed.”

“Really? So, like, you’ve known what I’ve felt about… stuff and… things?” Jim’s mind raced through each and every time he and Spock physically touched, wondering if he had anything to be ashamed of.

“On occasion, yes, but only when your emotions are particularly strong. Most of the time, however, I have taken care to shield my mind from receiving impressions from you. We are trained from an early age to erect shields so that we may not inadvertently read others. If one is discussing taboos among Vulcans, to read another without consent is the highest affront. We therefore eschew touching others – both Vulcan and non-Vulcan – to remove the likelihood we may pick up a stray thought or emotion from another.”

“I’ve read about mind melds – is that the same thing?”

“It is not. To meld with another, one shares a connection that goes much deeper. As a rule, only family members meld with one another, as well as healers, to ascertain a patient’s state of health. As is commonly misrepresented, Vulcans cannot read another’s thoughts from across a room.”

Jim thought he’d have to process this information a little more on his own, and he wasn’t sure what it would all add up to. Spock seemed to intuit his misgivings. “I would never do anything to compromise you or our relationship, Jim. If it helps to ease your mind, you may ask me anything about it you wish.”

“What do I feel like?” Jim asked after a moment’s consideration. 

Spock looked thoughtful for a moment. “In truth, I find it hard to categorize. You feel like you.”

“I don’t understand.” 

Spock pressed his fingertips together and gathered his thoughts. “Your nature, as I have come to know you better, is that of a thoughtful, intelligent, earnest, and compassionate man. On the occasions when I have encountered them, your emotions reflect just that, only _purely_ – do you understand? You feel what you feel, honestly, without artifice or duplicity as others may do, and it is that basic decency that I feel.”

No one had ever said such things to Jim, and he thought it was incredibly romantic. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going into the other room to scream into a pillow.”

“Whatever you require.”

\----

The next day, despite all of Jim’s fruitless wishing to the contrary, he once again found his entire morning tied up in meetings with Byrne for their upcoming mission on Vulcan.

“Can there be a written exam on this? We’ve covered it already, and I’ve got a ship to run,” Jim said as they once more went over the names and political affiliations of the members of the Vulcan High Council. 

“No, we cannot,” Byrne replied. “Do you know what will happen if you confuse T’Vennah, the high priestess of Gol, with T’Vanna, the wife of Seren, the Foreign Minister?”

“I apologize profusely and they think I’m an idiot human, which they probably do anyway?”

Byrne narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to make my life difficult?”

Jim bit back any number of answers “No.”

“If I could only be assured of the captain’s availability—”

“We have been over this multiple times. Captain Spock will be on limited duty beginning tomorrow morning, and he is not likely to have forgotten the proper modes of address among the leaders of his own people. Honestly, Mr. Byrne, I would think by now you could respect us enough to handle—”

“It is not the _captain_ whom I disrespect,” he interrupted haughtily.

Jim’s eyebrows shot up as Byrne’s face went red beneath the spray-on tan he routinely sported. This time there was no excusing the man’s rudeness; even Jim had a limit to his ability to maintain an air of affability – one he had never reached before, but there was a first time for everything. “I think we’re done here.” Jim stood up.

Byrne stood as well; he was shorter than Jim, but Jim had never noticed how _small_ a man he was until this moment. His lips curled back in a smile that was more like a sneer, drops of perspiration shining on his upper lip and at the hairline of his perfectly coiffed hair. His pale, grey eyes bugged out slightly as they shifted around the room, and his fingertips remained splayed on the tabletop. He did not attempt to apologize for his outburst, or to backpedal, or prevaricate. 

“I would say we are,” Byrne agreed.

“You should go,” Jim said evenly.

Byrne waited a beat, as if considering what he might say next, then gathered his things and left the room. Jim let out the breath he’d been holding, wondering just what the heck had happened. He wasn’t angry or anything, just amazed at the man’s obvious display of contempt. He supposed it explained some of Byrne’s behavior toward him, and on a certain level, knowing the man actively disliked him somehow made it easier for Jim not to take it seriously. More importantly, Jim knew he could keep it professional even if Byrne could not.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Spock go on a date.

“He said _what_?” Bones asked, incredulous. 

“‘It is not the _captain_ whom I disrespect,’” Jim quoted, pushing his glass of milk aside. He had stopped by sickbay after shift and dragged Bones to the officer’s mess for a few minutes; he could no longer resist telling someone about his encounter with Byrne.

Bones whistled, low. “What did Spock say?”

“I haven’t told him.”

“You haven’t told him? Why not?”

“So, what, I go running to my boyfriend because someone doesn’t like me? No, I can deal with the situation on a professional level and not involve Spock.”

“You’re a better man than me; I’d be jumping at the chance to torpedo that jackass.”

“We already know I’m a better man than you, Bones.”

Bones scowled. “I suppose I walked right into that one. So when do we arrive at Vulcan? I want to be sure to replicate enough tri-ox for the crew.”

“Tomorrow at 14:30 ship’s time. That information is in the daily status report – don’t you read it?”

“Why should I when I’ve got you to ask?”

Jim shrugged. His attention was caught by a pair of ensigns from Engineering playing chess across the room; their good-spirited goading of each other had attracted a small crowd of onlookers. “Say Bones, remember what you said the other day about how Spock and I should date?”

“Don’t tell me something I told you has actually penetrated that thick skull of yours?” Bones asked, poking him in the forehead.

“Quit it!” Jim swatted at his hand. “But if you must know, yes, what you said resonated with both of us.”

“I’m glad to hear it. And you know, I only gave you that advice because I think you and Spock are good for each other.”

Jim clasped his hands under his chin and batted his eyelashes. “Aw, you _do care_ , Bones!” Bones punched him in the arm and Jim laughed. “So along those lines, is there any reason Spock couldn’t be allowed to leave his quarters for a short while this evening?”

“Why – what do you have in mind?”

“Not much yet, but I assure you, it’s low-impact.”

“It had better be, or I’ll confine you both to sickbay for detailed physicals!”

\----

That evening, Jim arrived at the Spock’s door promptly at 19:30. He had informed Spock of his intention to take him on a date earlier in the day, and spent the last hour in his own quarters getting ready. He didn't think it ought to have taken this long, but Gaila, who had appointed herself his personal stylist, insisted. Never mind that his quarters were right next door to Spock’s, and they had been literally sleeping together the last few nights, Jim wanted this to be as close to a proper date as possible.

“Press the button, Jimmy, come on!” Gaila hissed at him. She was hiding just inside the open doorway of his quarters, peering out at him.

Jim fidgeted with his sweater, taking a whiff of the cologne she had assured him made him smell good, and looked at her uneasily. “Why am I so nervous?” he asked.

“Perhaps because this is a formalization of our relationship we have hitherto not attempted?” came Spock’s voice from just on the other side of the door.

Jim jumped. “You heard that?”

“I am a Vulcan, I have heard everything you and Lieutenant Maras have said for the last hour.”

“Jeepers,” Jim muttered. He took a deep breath, straightened his back, and pressed the button.

The door slid open immediately, revealing Spock. He was dressed all in black, with tight-fitting pants and a sweater made of a material that looked light and gauzy and clung to Spock’s frame in a way that was very appealing. 

“Wow, um. Hi,” Jim said, looking up at him. “You look really nice.”

“As do you.”

Jim looked down at himself; he wore a light blue cashmere sweater and grey slacks that Gaila insisted made his ass look great, though he thought they were a bit too tight. “Thanks.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Lead on, then.”

Gaila came to attention as they walked together to the turbolift. 

“At ease, Lieutenant,” Spock said to her.

“Yes sir!” she said, flashing Jim two thumbs up and mouthing, “Good luck,” as they passed.

\----

“You have brought me to Engineering,” Spock observed.

“Yes,” Jim said proudly. They stood in a service corridor on the deck beneath Main Engineering. There was no one around because there rarely was; this deck was mainly storage, but it was also the site of multiple access points to the engine room and other operational systems. Anyone down there was a member of the maintenance crew or there to fix something; Jim had asked Scotty to keep the area clear for the next half hour. 

“May I inquire why?” Spock prompted.

“Yes. Tonight, I am taking you to some of my favorite spots on the ship. I thought it would be a good way to get to know me.” He smiled hopefully up at Spock, who regarded their surroundings dubiously.

“This service corridor must be very special,” he said blandly.

“Oh no, it really isn’t,” Jim said, crossing over to the hatch set into the wall nearby. “But this is!”

“Jefferies Tube 16-217 Alpha?” 

“Yes.” Jim moved past him and activated the control in the wall that opened the hatch, then waited a moment as the ladder descended. “I already asked Bones if we could do this – are you up for a bit of climbing? Not too much – just a few rungs.”

“I believe I may be.”

“You go first, then.”

Spock held Jim’s eye for a long moment before reaching for the ladder. Jim thought he looked amused; he sure hoped he wasn’t annoyed. Jim waited a few moments before following. “You only have to go up about twenty rungs, and then stop,” Jim called out to him. 

“Very well.” Spock stopped with his feet standing on the twentieth rung. “I am there.”

“Good, OK, so just… close your eyes and _listen_.” Jim craned his head back to see if Spock complied, but from this angle, all he could see were his legs. “Are you doing it?”

“I am, though I fail to see why.”

“Think of the blueprints of the ship,” Jim prompted him. 

“This Jefferies tube runs under the floor of the Main Engineering deck.”

“Mm-hmm, and major power and coolant conduits run on either side of it. We are as close as we can get to being in the heart of the ship without crawling inside the warp core. Now listen.” Jim closed his eyes, as he knew Spock would, and listened. The engines, since they were at warp, were running, and emitting a steady, low-frequency hum so deep Jim could feel it resonating through his body. On top of that, the coolant that flowed past could be heard, the sound a whispery rush, with the slight whir of servos when its flow was in need of regulation. The combination of sounds was at once soothing and invigorating. 

“It is very much like a heartbeat if one lets one’s imagination lead in that direction. Tell me why it holds such meaning for you.”

“The second month I was here, as part of my orientation, I worked a couple of shifts in Engineering. I guess Chief Olson couldn’t figure out what to do with me, so he put me on a maintenance detail during the graveyard shift. I was to check the wiring in the conduits, so I was in here for a couple of hours. It was quiet, and kind of soothing, you know? And, well…” Jim hated admitting this, “I fell asleep.”

“You fell asleep whilst perched ten meters up a Jefferies tube?”

“Let me tell you, when I was an undergrad, I could sleep anywhere – I once dozed off in front of a stack of speakers at a rock concert.”

“A singular skill.”

“You can put me on report later. So anyway, as I woke up, I just had this feeling of safety, of surety, you know? I hadn’t felt like that at all up until that point, and after that, I knew being on the _Enterprise_ was what I wanted more than anything.”

“An inspiring tale, Jim. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Thanks for coming. Shall we go to the next stop on the Jim Kirk Tour of Renown?”

\----

“How’re you doing? Still OK?” Jim asked. He walked beside Spock with his hand through his arm, in case he needed any help walking. He wondered if this was the best time to have taken him on this date, so soon after his injury. Surely walking was not a good idea when one had a sprained penile bone, or so he could imagine.

“I promise you, I am perfectly well. If I should experience any pain or discomfort, I will tell you immediately.”

Jim nodded, but didn't move his hand.

“Where are we going?” Spock wondered aloud. “Ah, the deflector array.”

“Yep. This is definitely my number two favorite place on board the _Enterprise_. Wanna see why?”

Jim led Spock through the control room and into the dish’s main housing. The dish itself was massive – several decks high, and responsible for protecting the ship from space debris, enemy weapons, tractor beams and more. It also housed the main sensor array, which was arranged in a circle around it. It was along the area where these sensors were secured to the superstructure that Jim meant to bring Spock. The dish itself was a large, complicated network of sophisticated electronics, but it was not his ultimate goal; no, he wanted to show Spock something else. 

The dish was mounted onto the ship and encased by huge sheets of transparent aluminum. At the point where this material was joined with the ship’s hull was a space approximately two and a half meters deep. Jim bent over, careful not to strike his head on the delicate electronics, and got down on his hands and knees to crawl beneath it. 

“Come on, you have to really get down in here,” Jim called to Spock, holding a hand out to him and beckoning. 

Spock peered underneath the sensor machinery, looking dubious. “Surely our activities here will interfere with the operation of the sensors.”

“No, it won’t – I already made the adjustments; these are switched off for the next ten minutes. Come on, you really have to see this to believe it!”

Spock still looked doubtful, but he got down on hands and knees and followed Jim inside the space. 

“OK, now, lie down on your stomach like this.” Jim spread himself out on his stomach and pressed his head against the very edge of the transparent aluminum, resting his chin on his folded hands. Spock followed suit, taking up a similar position less than half a meter away from Jim, a wary expression on his face. “Look down,” Jim urged him.

“I beg your pardon?”

Jim pointed at the material beneath them. “ _Look down_!” Spock did as bidden, a tiny stutter in his breathing the only thing that betrayed his reaction. 

Spread out beneath them was a panoramic view of the space through which they flew. Since the _Enterprise_ was at warp, far-off stars seemed to be moving past them as if suspended on wires. It was like a far-off cloud of tiny fireflies, or sparks floating on the convection currents above a camp fire, and it was breathtaking. 

“Pretty cool, huh?” Jim asked.

Spock watched for several seconds before responding. “It is truly one of the most remarkable sights I have beheld. How did you come upon this vantage point?”

“Remember when I was working on trying to detect red matter all those months ago?” Spock nodded. “Well, Gaila and I had to make some tweaks to the array, and some of them had to be done by hand, so we were out here quite a lot.” He went back to looking down at the stars beneath them and shuddered; this view never failed to amaze him. 

“What?” Jim asked a minute later when realized Spock was staring at him curiously.

“I do not know what is more fascinating to me, the view of the stars as we pass, or its effect on you. You have a sense of wonder I wish I possessed, Jim.”

Jim pivoted to lie on his side, head resting on his propped-up hand. “What do you mean?”

“Since the day you arrived on the _Enterprise_ , you have displayed an enthusiasm for your work, a keen devotion and care for the well-being of crew, and an overall zest for living. I may be a Vulcan, Jim, but I can certainly recognize it. You are joyful, Jim – that is the word – and I believe it is this one aspect of your personality I esteem the most.”

“Are Vulcans supposed to be this romantic? I don’t think so,” Jim said, his face coloring at the flattering words. 

“How many Vulcans have you been in a relationship with?” 

“A total of one.”

“Then you lack sufficient data to form a valid hypothesis,” Spock replied before kissing him.

\----

“This is our last stop,” Jim said as they arrived at a particular room.

Spock eyed the sign on the door, then looked back at Jim. “The officer’s lounge?”

“Not quite,” Jim said, gesturing at the door so that Spock would precede him. Inside, the room was empty and the lights brought down low, except for one pinpoint of light that was shining on one important spot. Jim walked past Spock and led the way to the tiny table along the far wall, upon which rested a simple, battered chess set. Jim looked around the room approvingly – Gaila had gone above and beyond to pull this off for him, arranging to shut the lounge down and, apparently, creating the perfect mood lighting. He was sure he owed her big time once they were on shore leave.

“One of your favorite spots is this table?” Spock asked. His brows were furrowed and he looked confused.

“Can you guess why?”

“I know it is the spot where you consistently defeated me at chess every time we played. Is that why it is your favorite?”

Jim smiled. “No.”

“I recall many long conversations between those games of chess, you and I discussed many topics – is it one of those conversations?”

“No.”

“Then you will have to offer more of a clue, Jim, for I cannot think what it is.”

“This is the spot where I got over you.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I do not understand.”

“Do Vulcans ever have crushes? Infatuations?”

“As a rule, no.”

“Well, I had a huge crush on you, probably since the minute I met you.” Jim picked up a pawn from the set and played with it. “But you know, crushes aren’t really based on anything much beyond physical attraction to superficial factors – a person’s looks, for example, or their public persona. I struggled with it, because you’re my commanding officer and it wasn’t appropriate, but also because I thought you were completely unavailable. As much as I tried, I couldn’t talk myself out of it – not until I actually got to know you as a person.” He gestured to the chess set. “And this is where that happened.”

When Jim glanced up at Spock, the Vulcan was staring at him intently. “We became friends over this chess set, and even if we hadn’t – you know,” Jim gestured between them both, indicating their connection, “I would still count this as one of the most important relationships of my life. I really admire you, Spock, your intelligence and your decisiveness. Your bravery and compassion, too. You’re the person I most want to emulate as a Starfleet officer, and as a man. I am honored to be called your friend.”

“That is quite interesting,” Spock said, stepping closer, so close that Jim had to lift his chin to look into his eyes, “for, as illogical as it is, this chess set is significant to me as well. It is where I learned so much about you, and where I first knew I had fallen in love with you.”

Jim felt warm all over. “You don’t say?”

“I do say. I fell for you, even if you never once let me win.” His leaned in closer and rested his hand on Jim’s arm. His mouth, now mere inches away from Jim’s, quirked up in a half smile. 

“You told me not to,” Jim reminded him.

“So I did. Shall we play a game now, do you think?”

Jim leaned into him and grasped a handful of his sweater. “I can think of more fun activities,” he said, tilting his head to the side and closing the gap between them. With a sigh, he pressed his mouth over Spock’s lower lip, closing his eyes as Spock responded. A hand gently cupped the back of Jim’s head and he pulled himself closer to Spock, their bodies now pressed together from knee to chest.

“Captain Spock, you _are_ here, I was beginning to think the ship’s computer couldn’t possibly—” 

Jim and Spock stepped apart at the interruption, turning to greet whoever it was. Jim stifled the urge to roll his eyes when he saw it was Byrne standing before them. 

“Oh!” Byrne said as they parted. “No. No, no, no. _No_!” He stood with his fists clenched at his sides and visibly shook. Jim thought it a strange reaction. “ _What_ are you doing?”

“I would think that was obvious. I assure you, we have already informed Command of our relationship, filed all the appropriate paperwork with personnel…”

“What are you doing with _Him_?!?” Byrne interrupted, practically shouting.

Spock blinked. “As I have just said—”

Byrne held his hands up to cut off his answer, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself. “Captain, far be it from me to advise you how to live your life, but do you know what this will do to your career?”

“As I have just stated—”

“To be seen with _him_ , one so obviously beneath you?”

“I beg your pardon?” Spock asked, astonished.

Jim kept his mouth shut – he already knew what Byrne’s opinion of him was, and if the man wanted to air it in front of Spock, he was not going to be the one to stop him. 

Byrne sneered, obviously angry. “This upstart, this bungler, this–this–this _mewling simpleton_?” he spat. His face had gone an unhealthy-looking shade of purple. 

Spock pulled himself up to stand at his full height. “Mr. Byrne,” he said coldly, “may I remind you, you are addressing a member of the Command Team of this ship? If you cannot behave professionally, then I will be forced to ask you to leave.”

Byrne gaped at Spock, astonished. He quickly recovered, his eyes falling on Jim as if he was something foul he had stepped in. “I’ll bet you’re happy now, aren’t you?”

“Me?” Jim didn't know what to feel, other than amazement at what was going on.

“Everything’s just perfect for you, isn’t it? You and your perfect face and your perfect life, everything always happens perfectly perfect for the Kelvin Baby, doesn’t it?”

Jim gasped, stung. That old label had always hurt, and to hear it uttered with such hatred was like a lash across his back.

“I am so sick of hearing about it, and about you.” He took a step forward. “And now you’ve hitched yourself to the brightest star that Starfleet has produced in decades.” He addressed Spock, his eyes holding a strange brightness, “Don’t you see that he will only hold you back, Captain? Wouldn’t you much rather be with someone who will look after your _brand_? Who will make sure you get all the attention and fame you deserve?”

“I would be with one who demonstrates basic respect and consideration for others,” Spock replied evenly, “not someone who views me as a brand to be promoted.”

Byrne reacted as if he’d been struck, flinching at Spock’s words. If it was possible, his face grew even darker. “This is all your doing,” he accused Jim. “You turned him against me!”

“I think you did that by yourself,” Jim said. 

With a sudden cry, Byrne pulled something from inside his jacket and launched himself at Jim, hand held high. Shocked, Jim just stood there. Spock, however, reacted swiftly, turning to the side and reaching out with his left hand, he settled it at the join between the man’s neck and shoulder and squeezed. The nerve pinch worked immediately, sending Byrne to the floor in a heap. Jim noticed then what the item Byrne held was. 

“Holy heck, he tried to kill me!” Jim said, his voice cracking. “With a fork.”

“So it would appear,” Spock said. His face looked calm, but his eyes were stormy. He crossed the room to access the shipboard communications system to call Security to their location. “Are you hurt?”

Jim rubbed the back of his neck and was surprised that his hands were shaking. “No, I’m not hurt, but I mean—” he ran out of words, still shocked at what had just occurred. _A fork_?

Moments later, three Security staff arrived, phasers drawn, to secure the scene. A team of medics arrived shortly afterward, and placed Byrne onto an anti-grav stretcher. Spock took a moment to fill Security in on what happened. Both teams headed out minutes later, Spock ordering them to take Byrne to a secured room in sickbay to sleep it off; from there he would be taken to the brig.

“What the hell happened? I heard someone attacked the captain?”

“Aw, criminy,” Jim muttered as Bones came rushing into the room, wild-eyed.

“You were misinformed,” Spock said. “Mr. Byrne attempted to assault Lieutenant Commander Kirk. I was forced to administer a nerve pinch on him.”

“Dammit, Jim,” he said, his concern making him sound annoyed. He pulled his tricorder off his belt and started scanning Jim.

Jim pushed his hand away. “Quit it, he never laid a hand on me. Or… fork. Whatever.”

“Fork?”

Jim indicated the fork Byrne had used – it might have come from any bin in the mess, or out of any replicator.

“He attacked you with an eating utensil?”

“He tried to.”

“That’s forked up,” Bones said drily.

Jim gave him a dirty look. 

“No need to throw me attitude. I told you that guy was bad news!”

“What is this?” Spock said.

“Nothing,” Jim said.

“It wasn’t nothing – that guy Byrne’s been undermining Jim every chance he gets. When we were at the Tellarite reception, he was telling every woman he met that Jim was hot-to-trot. And just this morning they had a run-in.”

“Is that so, Commander?”

Jim sighed; he hadn’t expected to share this with Spock. “Byrne got out of hand and insulting, but I handled it.”

“It will have to go into your report,” Spock said.

“Yes, sir,” Jim said, his shoulders slumping; he hated writing incident reports, and having to do one about himself would be a special kind of torture. 

An hour later, after Jim and Spock had spoken with Security for their preliminary report, the two men made their way back to their quarters.

“So much for date night, huh?” Jim said, leaning up against the wall of the turbolift. The evening had started off so well, but it seemed that he and Spock might never get to have a proper evening alone anytime soon. He thought he should figure out how to accept that, even if it made him want to drop to the floor and wail like an overtired toddler.

“I do not know if it was a complete failure,” Spock said reassuringly. “There was an enjoyable amount of kissing at one point, I recall.”

Jim smiled at the memory. “Yeah, I suppose there was. Well, better luck next time, eh?” 

The lift doors opened and they entered the corridor shoulder-to-shoulder. 

“Will you allow me to escort you to your door, Commander?” Spock asked.

Jim chuckled. “I would like that.” The walk was a very short one. Jim paused in the doorway. “I wish I could say it was a lovely evening,” he said.

“Someday we will look back on this and...”

“Laugh?” Jim said wryly.

“I am not sure.”

This time, Jim did laugh. “You want to come inside? Maybe we can get a real game of chess in or something?”

“I would like that,” Spock said.

Jim keyed his code in and the door swished open. Inside, the room was dark, except for a low flickering light at the far side of Jim’s living area. “Oh yeah,” he said, as he turned to Spock.

“What is this?” Spock asked, clearly surprised.

“In all the excitement, I forgot. Gaila set up a candle-lit dinner for two. She thought I might be able to seduce you properly after our date.”

“How… thoughtful of the lieutenant.”

They looked at the table, and the wheeled cart on which sat several covered dishes, then back at each other.

“Did it work?” Jim asked.

“What is for dinner?”

\----

After they ate, they sat on Jim’s couch watching the holo-candles flicker and fade as they got to the end of their pre-programmed display. Jim leaned against Spock with his head on his shoulder, his glasses off. His quarters were a pleasant, blurry glow, and Spock’s arm around him was warm and comfortable.

“Jim, might I make a query?” Spock said.

“Sure.”

“There was a name Byrne used to refer to you earlier this evening, one I had not heard before. ‘Kelvin Baby’?” Jim flinched involuntarily. “It causes you pain – why?”

Jim sighed. “You know the story of my family, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, that was the name Terran tabloids had for me while I was growing up. Every year, on my birthday, there’d be news stories about the disaster, people always wondering what I was up to, wanting to interview me, that kind of thing. My mom did a pretty good job keeping them away, but the name stuck. It’s the kind of notoriety I never asked for and never wanted, but there was no getting away from it.

“Most of the time, people are pretty respectful, or they try to be. They ask stupid questions. ‘What’s it like to grow up knowing your dad sacrificed his life for yours?’ I mean, what’s a kid supposed to say to that? But some people – some are like Byrne. They think that being famous is this incredible privilege, and they resent me for it. I mean, all I got was a dead father and weirdos trying to sell my used birthday candles.” He sighed. “I’m sorry – it sounds like I’m feeling sorry for myself, but sometimes I think that’s all people ever see.”

“It is not what I see,” Spock said. “And I would judge you on your actions and your words, not something as frivolous as notoriety.”

“I know. That’s why I like you so much.” Jim lifted his head and stretched up to kiss Spock. The moment their lips touched, Spock pulled him closer. Jim shifted up to be more comfortable. Spock followed his lead, his body bearing Jim’s back until he was lying on his back on the couch.

Spock was a pleasant weight on top of him, solid yet mobile as his body moved, kissing and nipping at Jim’s lips, his jaw, his throat. His hands were everywhere, running along Jim’s shoulders, his chest, down his sides. Jim moaned at the touch and, almost without thinking, he spread his legs wider, pulling Spock in to fill that space, to feel him closer. Spock complied with a low groan and pushed up on his hands, his face hovering above Jim’s, just out of reach of his mouth when he strained up to kiss him.

“Fascinating,” Spock breathed, raising a hand to Jim’s face and cupping his cheek. He ran his thumb across Jim’s lower lip, the touch light as a feather.

“What is?”

“The edematous response of the tissues of your lips to continued stimulation. It is most appealing.”

“You like my mouth?” Jim asked, teasingly. “How about now?” Jim asked, slipping his own hand around Spock’s wrist and turning his head. Slowly, he took the tips of Spock’s first two fingers into his mouth and sucked them gently. 

Spock’s entire body shuddered against him as he closed his eyes, his mouth opening in a silent, “Oh.” 

Encouraged, Jim increased the pressure he used, and ran his own two fingers along the back of Spock’s wrist. The hairs there were coarse, the skin beneath dry and soft. Spock’s face turned progressively deeper shades of olive as Jim went on, and Jim could feel a stirring in his partner’s trousers. Spock moved a hand between them and began to work at opening Jim’s belt.

“Wait a second,” Jim said, pulling off of Spock’s fingers and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He pressed both hands against Spock’s chest to put some space between them. “Should we go on from here? I mean, didn't Bones say no sex?”

“He said no sexual relations for me. It does not mean that I could not offer the same to you.”

“That hardly seems fair.” Jim tried to sit up, but Spock was heavier than he initially thought.

“I have always found the giving of pleasure as satisfying as receiving.”

“Sure, but I mean, it would be better if we both, you know… _got there_ … together.”

“Jim, the likelihood of two sexual partners reaching climax simultaneously is mainly a product of popular fiction,” Spock chided him. He looked thoughtful for a moment. “That said, perhaps there is a way in which we might both experience pleasure while adhering to the doctor’s instructions.”

“Oh?”

“You recall that Vulcans are touch telepaths?” Jim nodded. “If you have no objection, I will lower my shields enough to share in your pleasure.”

Jim considered for a moment. The idea of sharing that with Spock ought to have been more concerning than it was, but it was a kind of intimacy he had never considered possible with another person. “Are you sure?”

Spock caressed his face with his fingers. “I am, _ashal-veh_.”

“ _Ashal-veh_ – that’s nice. What does it mean?”

“It is a term of endearment; the equivalent in Standard would be ‘darling’ or ‘beloved.’”

Hearing these words in Spock’s low, clear voice, Jim felt a surge of heat that began somewhere in his chest and radiated outward. He pulled Spock to him, kissing him fervently, their mouths sliding together in a way that was becoming more and more familiar. They kissed for long minutes, arms wrapped around each other, the only sounds in the room that of their lips and soft sighs. 

Spock pulled back suddenly, his eyes dark. “I would have you naked,” he said.

Jim felt nearly dizzy with arousal as Spock flicked his belt buckle open, straining his hips up to assist in the removal of his trousers and underwear, then sitting up to pull his sweater off. He was reaching for the hem of Spock’s shirt almost before his hit the floor. “I would have _you_ naked,” Jim said. Not very original, but his imagination had fled south along with most of his body’s blood supply. 

Spock rose to undress quickly, though he left his underwear on. Jim briefly wondered what the splint Bones had had to use on him might look like, but forgot all about it when Spock rejoined him on the couch. Spock lowered himself atop Jim, kissing him passionately as his hand grasped Jim’s penis and jacked him slowly. His hand was large and dry, cool against Jim’s fevered flesh. Jim gasped at the contact, his hips surging upward.

This went on for long minutes, until Jim was nearly crazed with desire. “Please,” he panted. “I want—”

“My mouth upon you,” Spock said, eyes meeting Jim’s and locking on. There was understanding there, a link between them that Jim imagined he could feel too. He nodded.

Spock knelt on the floor and reached for Jim, hands on hips as he pulled him closer. Jim’s stomach dropped a little with excitement as he experienced Spock’s strength once more. Spock spread Jim’s legs and settled between them, taking his penis firmly in hand, he licked his lips before settling them firmly around the head. Jim moaned and closed his eyes. 

“Oh. My. Goodness,” he breathed as he let his head fall back against the couch’s cushions. Jim had had oral sex before, but never with someone who could practically read his mind. Spock responded to his desires almost before he thought of them; when he thought he might ejaculate too soon, Spock eased off on the pressure; when he liked something, like the way Spock swirled the tip of his tongue against Jim’s slit, he did it again and again. And when Jim found himself wanting penetration, Spock obliged, sliding a saliva-slick finger inside Jim’s body at exactly the right moment. 

“Spock,” he gasped. He could feel himself getting close to ejaculating, and he thought to give fair warning. He raised his head to look at his lover. “Spock,” he said more loudly.

Spock looked up at him, mouth spit-slicked and stretched around him. Jim reached out, but Spock evaded him. 

“Spock, I’m gonna – you know.” Jim disliked all the words that referred to ejaculation, including ‘ejaculation,’ so he hoped Spock knew what he meant. 

From the look in Spock’s eyes, it was clear that he did. His eyelids were lowered, pupils nearly as large as his irises. Then he closed them, taking Jim’s penis so deeply that Jim could feel the back of his throat. Jim thought he might gag, but he did not; in fact, it felt like he was swallowing, and the pressure on Jim was too great. Within seconds, he cried out, ejaculating harder than he thought he ever had in his life, and Spock swallowed it all. 

When it was over, when Spock had released him and Jim had melted back against the couch as if he was completely boneless, Spock stretched out beside him. Jim curled into him, burying his face against his chest; Spock encircled Jim’s shoulders lightly with one arm, holding him close. 

“Wow,” Jim said when he felt like he could speak again. He raised an arm to try to hold onto Spock, but it felt too heavy suddenly.

“Indeed.” He began to stroke at Jim’s hair gently. “You are somnolent.” 

Jim nodded; if he was a cat, he’d be purring.

“Sleep then, _ashaya_. Sleep.”

\----

Jim woke some time later feeling too warm. He pushed aside the light blanket that had been settled over him and sat up, puzzled, because he was alone on his couch. “Computer, reduce ambient temperature by five degrees,” he commanded and rose. He put on his glasses and went into his bedroom to find his robe, then contemplated beverage options from his in-room replicator. He settled on a glass of warm milk with nutmeg and was just sitting down at his desk when there was a footfall behind him. 

Spock had entered his quarters from their shared bathroom. Jim noticed he was dressed in his duty uniform. “Where’d you go?” he asked.

“I wanted to make a subspace call to Starfleet headquarters and did not wish to wake you, so I used my ready room.”

“It’s OK to wake me for ship’s business,” Jim said.

Spock’s mouth quirked into his version of a smile. “Not when you look so appealing in slumber,” he said.

“Gosh.”

“Yes.” He crossed over to Jim and took a seat opposite him. “As I was saying, I wished to report back to the Admiralty the incident that occurred earlier this evening with Mr. Byrne. When I did, I learned something quite surprising.”

Jim sipped his milk and asked, “What?”

“The tour of Federation worlds the _Enterprise_ has been on was to have concluded weeks ago. It seems that Mr. Byrne had taken it upon himself to prolong it, booking engagements himself and reporting that demand for our presence was high.”

“That little weasel,” Jim said.

Spock blinked. “Is that an insult?”

Jim colored; it was also mean of him to say it. “Yes.”

“Ah. I do admit he bears a passing resemblance to members of the Earth genus _Mustelidae_ , however.” Jim grinned as Spock went on, “I inquired of Admiral Barnett as to our orders, and he informed me that we are to continue with our scheduled missions to Vulcan and Risa.

“And after that?” 

“We will be allowed to disembark for a deep space mission in the Beta Quadrant.”

“Hurray!” Jim exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. Spock regarded the gesture quizzically but didn’t comment. Jim dropped his arms. “Where will we go?”

“We will be informed before we leave Vulcan.”

“Well, that is the best news I’ve heard since Bones told me I didn’t kill you the other day!” Jim enthused.

“I am relieved I am your first priority.”

Jim grinned at him. “The crew will be thrilled.”

“We still have several engagements on Vulcan and Risa to complete before we go.” 

“Of course,” Jim said, already several steps ahead. Before going, he’d have to determine with his department heads what research projects would benefit most from the mission, not to mention brainstorming new ones they might be able to launch. Excited, he switched on his computer terminal and began to type. 

“And my mother is quite eager to meet you,” Spock added.

Jim’s eyes met his, and he could feel his stomach do a backflip. “M-mother?”

Spock nodded. “She was very disappointed not to have met you when my father did, and has been pressing for it since I informed her of our relationship.”

“Sh-she knows about me?”

“Naturally. She says she has much to tell you. Alone.”

Jim swallowed, wondering at the kind of woman who could spend a lifetime among Vulcans and actually thrive. She had to be formidable. She’d eat him alive. 

“Jeepers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your time!


End file.
